The Mind Arts
by Wu Gang
Summary: What is more terrifying? A wizard who can kick down your door or a wizard who can look at you and know your every thought? Harry's journey into the mind arts begins with a bout of accidental magic and he practices it and hungers for the feelings it brings. [Major Canon Divergences beginning Third Year.]
1. The Stage

**What are the mind arts? So far various fanfictions here and the cannon works have given little insight, Occlumency defends the mind and Legilimency attacks it and that's about it. Occlumency according to this site has numerous benefits so Harry Potter must become one by the time he is nine and repel even the most powerful of wizards with ease. I intend to take a different approach inspired by the mind arts involved in several different works here but also from elsewhere. My ideas are inspired or co-opted from the following works.**

 **DarknessEnthroned's 'A Cadmean Victory'**

 **Ryuugi's (from Spacebattles forums, rgm0005 here) 'The Master of Death'**

 **Kurenaino's Morning Star series including 'From Grace, I Fall'**

 **Santi's 'Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived'**

 **And 'Worthy of Magic' which I can name but no longer find on this site.**

 **I would recommend each and every one of these stories.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **This story will be dark. It will feature mind rape unlike anything that is described in any other work from this fandom that I have read.**

 **Now I have never understood the purpose of bashing in fanfiction. It doesn't make sense to me. I will endeavor to not include it. Dumbledore will have a relationship with Harry that will have its ups and downs. This chapter will contain an up.**

 **Harry Potter will most certainly be damaged psychologically. Ignoring his physical abuse at the hands of the Dursleys which is minor, even with severe beatings, in my opinion, to the psychological effects of long term boredom, especially for a child. Harry was locked in a pit of despair in his cupboard, where he spends time in essentially solitary confinement. I implore you to read the works of animal abuser and psychologist Henry Harlow on the subject. He stated that "twelve months of isolation obliterated the animal's socially."**

 **Modern studies on the practice in prisons finds that a third of all solitary inmates were "actively psychotic or acutely suicidal."**

 **Harry here is agoraphobic, and he is emotionally color blind, at least for now. He has trouble recognizing his own emotions and that is a problem as he enjoys some of them. This leads to his addiction to legilimency.**

 **With that out of the way tell me what you like and what I should fix. I don't want a supremely powerful Harry Potter, especially not at the beginning, and I don't want some hyper-mature eleven year-old.**

 **Now we begin.**

 **Italics are Harry's thoughts. Brackets are the thoughts of others.**

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 _"The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter."-Severus Snape, JKR's the Order of the Pheonix_

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When people called Paris 'The City of Lights' they probably didn't have this in mind. Though the cityscape did have a magnificent red glow beneath dark clouds of smoke and ash.

To say that Paris was burning would be like saying all Mozart did was write music. It was understatement of the worst kind, because, in the distance, the Eiffel Tower was melting. Harry could clearly see it from his place beside his mentor, overlooking the heart of France.

This was the price of standing up to Voldemort.

Gale force winds blew towards the center of the city. The hot air rising pulled in cooler air from the surrounding region. People running to escape were ripped off their feet and flung into the heart of the storm. Street poles melted on every corner and there was no solid glass to be found.

A family burst from their home, running out onto the asphalt only to promptly fall into the liquified street. They tried to push off the ground with their hands only for their hands to sink in and burn, their flesh was peeled from their bodies by the heat.

Three city blocks were pulled off their foundations and toppled towards the conflagration. A car slid down a street before it was caught up in tarmac, the former solid had become a hot flammable liquid.

There were charred and twisted bodies everywhere, some still moving while they were little more than skeletons. In other places the heat was more merciful and it fried the lungs of its victims first.

Harry tried to convince himself that what he was smelling was just the city and that he couldn't smell burning flesh.

This wasn't even Voldemort's power, not truly. This was a natural result of when fires merge in a dense area of flammable material. Sure he had set the fires, an easy thing to do considering he was the greatest pyrokinetic alive, perhaps ever to live. Then he ensured that the city's mechanisms to prevent such a thing failed… but from there all he had had to do was step back.

Here, Hell was on Earth.

"Can you stop the winds Harry, we must act fast," Dumbledore slid his sleeves up and drew his wand. Harry struggled to hear the Headmaster over the sound of melting metropolis.

He shook his head and grabbed the old sorcerer's arm.

"Sir," Harry pleaded.

"We can levitate the rivers. The Seine and Marne, there."

Harry followed the pointed wand and looked out at dry river beds, the firestorm had boiled the rivers off even as water rushed to replace the gaps.

"There's no water, Professor."

Harry had never seen the unflappable wizard so panicked, not even when Harry emerged from the Chamber of Secrets with Tom Riddle's Diary.

"Go help the muggles, I'll create a trench to hold back the flames." Dumbledore's mind must have been whirling, coming up with new plans as fast as possible to try and help; to try and end the disaster.

"We have to stay together. If we split up he'll kill one of us and then the other, especially if we exhaust ourselves with the rivers or digging trenches," Harry argued.

Hordes of people were rushing past the two wizards, some stopped to look at the magicians. The Statute of Secrecy had been the first thing to go when Voldemort went to war.

He could distantly hear, over the din of collapsing buildings and rushing people, pitched and angled just perfectly to reach him, the voice of a little girl. "Are we getting dead yet?"

Harry cursed his understanding of french. He swallowed his empathy, it was thick and bitter.

"We have to catch him, sir, or he'll do it again. Berlin, London, whose to say he'll limit his targets to Europe."

"He'll do it again, Harry." Dumbledore croaked, he was nearly sobbing.

Harry put a comforting hand on the wizard's shoulder and watched.

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Harry Potter pushed his glasses higher up on his nose as he bolted towards Privet drive, away from his cousin Dudley riding on his new racing bike. Harry had been confused why Dudley had wanted a bike at all. He was fat, and hated exercise with a prejudice; unless he happened to be punishing somebody, usually Harry.

Harry was, despite his frail body, deceptively fast. Too fast for Dudley to catch unless he was cornered. That was, until the bike.

Thankfully, it had its limits. Harry dodged through a yard, where Dudley couldn't follow, towards his Aunt and Uncle's house. If he made it there he could lock himself in his cupboard. He would be safe.

Well safe from the bike at least. Dudley wouldn't pursue him inside the cupboard.

His glasses fell from his face despite his attempts to keep them on; he blamed the odd shape of the frames. They were ill-fitting and just barely held together by tape, so could never form a very snug fit. They hit the pavement and Harry snatched them up as fast as he could, only to turn and see Dudley practically upon him. He desperately wished he was in his cupboard and closed his eyes tight to brace himself…

No pain ever arrived.

He was in his cupboard. He heard distant shouting, but he was definitely in the cupboard.

He was certainly glad to be amongst his little spider friends again, but not like this. Not in some… _freakish_ manner. Dudley would tell on him without a doubt, and that was sure to net another beating.

And it did.

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By the time Harry woke up the next morning, the bruises of his Uncle's belt had faded. The sore spot on his head from Petunia's frying pan stung softly but not distractingly. This was a regular occurrence and, while this used to mean more beatings to try and make the marks _stick_ – to get the message across, obviously – now that he was in school, he figured that the Dursleys were thankful he healed so quickly.

He crawled out from the cupboard and got to work cooking breakfast and lunches for the family. He already had Vernon's coffee prepared when his uncle descended the stairs.

Harry remained silent while Petunia fussed over Dudley. None of them talked about what happened, which was normal. Dudley sent him a smirk. The smirk that someone with power sends to someone without it.

 _What's it like?_

Harry watched Petunia kiss Dudley and love him the way mothers do for their children. Harry didn't ask. Not asking questions was critical to surviving the Dursleys.

Harry met his cousin's eyes and felt displaced, not like he did yesterday where he moved to his cupboard, but like he was standing still and the floor had fallen away from him. Night terrors of falling endlessly was all he could compare it to, or maybe the feeling of standing up to fast, or perhaps sleeping with a concussion.

Yesterday's movement hardly felt like he had moved at all, but this time he was going fast.

Harry felt loved by his mother and disgust mixed with superiority over his cousin.

Then he was back in his body.

None of the Dursleys seemed to notice. Harry felt overwhelmed by the impressions he had experienced and struggled to detangle them from this own. He never felt loved by his own mother and, though he loathed his cousin, he had never felt superior to him. Those were Dudley's emotions.

 _Not mine, Dudley's._

It felt wrong. They weren't his, they didn't belong to him.

He breathed slowly and turned back to his tasks before he could make a mistake.

"Bring me the bacon, boy," Vernon sneered.

Harry loaded a plate and handed it to his Uncle. He met his uncle's eyes and felt… hungry. Well, that one might just be him.

He looked at Petunia, meeting her pinched, narrowed eyes with own. Distant sadness and jealousy; envy felt green in his mouth. Closer, there was anger, fear, and a deep loathing. So deep it caused the sore spot on his head to throb.

When he finished consuming the scraps he had been allowed and done the dishes, he left for school. He would be late, as he always was. He would miss some class and it left the impression that he was a poor student. He wasn't. Books were the only company he kept besides the spiders under his cupboard. He wished he was at school already.

He hated the daily walk to school and to make things worse it was hot out today. He preferred the muggier weather that the British typically enjoyed. Well _he_ enjoyed it anyway.

He remembered yesterday when he focused on the cupboard. On being in the cupboard. At getting inside. He focused on the school building.

He wished he was there and shut his eyes tight.

And when he opened them, he was.

There was a loud noise that came with him and he looked at the school parking lot with awe. And he promptly vomited and fell to his knees in his own waste.

He sighed, the acrid smell getting to him and his throat burning uncomfortably. It would be a long day at school. He was certain of that.

But he practiced at school. With whatever it was he could now do. When he looked at people he felt… something. Which was good. Something was nice. Even the disgust he felt in the eyes of a girl in his class when she looked at his tattered hand me downs, still covered in vomit, felt better then what he usually felt. It was nice. For a few moments he felt like he wasn't himself. It was far better than the emptiness which usually clung to his insides. It was brighter than his numbness.

He smiled sheepishly at the girl and she scrunched her face at him.

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Harry knew the Dursleys' minds well; he had several years of practice by now. He determined that this was what he was feeling. Their thoughts and impressions against his eyes. He could read them and feel them without even looking at them. From the corner of his eye he could see them and see further _through_ them. He knew what the students around him felt with a bare glance.

He felt proud. Why shouldn't he? This was his. Something the Dursleys couldn't take away. Couldn't remove even if they killed him.

And he would die before he stopped doing what he did.

It no longer felt like movement. Like he had fallen whenever he met their eye. It instead felt like the world moved around him, rather than he through it.

He saw the same girl who he often dived into inside the classroom. She met his eyes as he walked through the door, and he didn't feel the usual disgust and repulsion. Instead, he felt sadness.

He took his seat, quickly breaking the eye contact. He didn't need it to feel her.

 _Sadness, despair, loss perhaps?_

He mentally shrugged as he attempted to decipher the girl. It could have been any one of those, or something else entirely. He felt a desire to know and turned back to her. He caught the corner of her eyes and saw and heard rather than felt.

There was color, a lot of it, not all where he had expected color to be. Of course, he wasn't using his eyes, so where he expected color was kind of irrelevant. He saw… a _cat_. It was skinny and grey and all bones. But it was well-groomedf and clearly loved. He saw a shoe box and a shovel. The colors shattered and he was brought back to the classroom he never left.

"Stop staring at me!" The girl hissed at him. He blinked in surprise and flushed in embarrassment as other students turned to look at him, some chuckling at his expense. The teacher turned from the chalkboard and raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I was just…" he trailed off, hoping to leave the impression he spaced out in her direction. It was partially true, but he didn't know how to describe what he wanted to say and ended up flushed scarlet, trying to sink onto his seat. He turned his attention to the teacher instead. She seemed to think he was disrupting things intentionally, he felt concern for her job and indignity at his behavior before he broke the connection and turned back to his desk.

He never entered the mind of the girl whose cat died again. He felt too embarrassed by the memory of his humiliation. He did, however, break further into Dudley and the Dursley's heads. He knew what he saw between black perspective lines and white wisps. They were memories; moments he had never experienced himself, never were there for, and yet felt them anyway.

He knew that when he saw things like this, it was too far. That he was pushing away the privacy of others. He didn't care, he felt wonderful things sometimes. Terrible things as well, true, but nowhere near as bad as the _real_ memories made in his aunt and uncle's house.

So what, if his happiest memory was being proposed to some thirty years ago?

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Harry picked up the letter and stared at it. He felt something in his chest move and a rush of feelings as he stared at the innocuous envelope that so boldly displayed his name. He had no friends, no one who cared for him. Who would send a letter to somebody like him?

But the words on the envelope were plain and clear, in deep green ink above a purple seal bearing four animals and the letter H.

 **Mr. H. Potter**

 **The Cupboard under the Stairs**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

 **Surrey**

The letter was snatched from his hand before he could so much as tear the edge.

"That's mine!" He seethed, trying to snatch it back from his uncle's meaty paw.

"Who would bother writing to you?" Vernon shook his head with the words. They came out taunting and biting. As Vernon inspected the envelope his face turned colors so quickly even Harry was slightly concerned.

 _I hope that's not contagious._

Vernon gasped out his wife's name, stumbling over the syllables is his… anger? Terror? Harry couldn't tell, but it made for an interesting color. Petunia grasped it with a curious expression, and when Harry read her he felt only confusion at the state of events.

 _Not particularly helpful._

She gasped and clutched at her throat and made stiff noises. Harry read her again, but he wasn't prepared for the onslaught of dread and jealousy.

"As that letter is mine," Harry announced loudly, punctuating each word, "I would like to read it."

Petunia met his eyes.

Red hair and green soft eyes, the face of a cute girl and the harder, more angular face of a dark-haired boy. A branch falling, fear and dread… a carved stick. Envy like Harry had never felt before in his life and, deep pain from wounds that were never allowed to heal.

["A witch in the family!" …" couldn't be" …"so proud" …" arrogant little" …" I'm going to tell mummy" …" You're a freak Lily!" …]

"What's that about-" Harry interrupted himself abruptly. He couldn't let them know. How would he ask about what he saw without admitting that he saw it?

 _A witch? What was going on? Was that Petunia's voice talking to my mother, Lily?_

He caught Vernon's eye and felt his anger. Harry took a step back, retreating down the hallway to his cupboard. Dudley began to screech about wanting to read it while Harry backed up.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address. How could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon frantically. His speech was sporadic in the way it always turned when he was furious or worried, or when the bank called.

There was a knock at the door.

It was crisp and polite. Everyone turned towards the sound. Vernon froze, turning the color of day old porridge. Petunia collapsed onto the back of a chair, using it to steady her shaking legs.

There were two more knocks just as polite.

Harry took a step towards it. He usually opened the doors for guests and took their coats and things. When he stepped forward Vernon made an odd strangled noise and Harry took a step back to look at him curiously and cautiously.

There was fourth, fifth, and sixth knock at the door.

It was Dudley who eventually opened the door to a tall, bearded man with piercing, blue eyes that peered out at him over half-moon spectacles. He was dressed strangely, wearing robes like a minister or preacher or something…

 _Like a witch? Or maybe, a wizard?_

The man broke Harry from his thoughts.

"Ah," he began, spying the letter in Petunia's hand, "I see young Harry has received his letter. Has he read it? It is, of course, very good to see you again Petunia, it has been quite some time since my last visit." He spoke pleasantly. "I shall assume you have invited me warmly into your lovely home."

The man stepped forward and Petunia squeaked, Dudley took a step back in shock and Vernon's mustache seemed to seize.

The man took the opportunity to look around the room. His eyes flickered to Harry, and the cupboard which Harry had opened the door to escape into. The man's eyes were fast and bright, and Harry doubted he missed the photo albums and pictures framed on the walls which contained zero evidence of Harry even living here.

He also doubted he missed the bed tucked under the stairs, people weren't supposed to know about the cupboard. He would be beat for this.

The urge to duck into his cupboard was strong.

"Harry, it is wonderful to see you again, my boy." His voice was warm and pleasant. Harry flinched when was called boy, it was usually a sign of Vernon's growing anger. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby. I see you have your mother's eyes, though it would be difficult to miss your father in you."

Harry had never heard such things in his life, he felt warm and confused. Usually pain followed his attempts to discover more about his family.

"No!" Vernon seemed to regain himself, standing and shrieking, "we won't have him go to any school to practice his freakishness! We won't have it!"

Harry felt his chest tighten and hair prickle. The man's eyes seemed to glow! What was he?

"I'm afraid it is quite out of your hands Mr. Dursley." The rebuke was short and contained the first hints of anger in the man's voice since he had arrived.

"When I saw how young Harry's letter was addressed, I was understandably shocked. I didn't believe it. After all, had you two died and your son was sent to live with Lily Potter, I very much doubt that she would have given him a cupboard under the stairs to live in. I see now that I was mistaken, and that young Harry is not safe here. I'm afraid that I have come to collect him, and he shan't be returning."

Petunia looked floored and stammered something unintelligable.

"The wards I set up to defend Harry were meant to defend him against those who might seek to do him harm. My mistake was, it appears, not preparing for the threats which were already inside. When he leaves, they will collapse and you will be vulnerable. Young man," The old man turned towards Harry for the second time, "will you take a walk with me? I feel that we have a great deal to talk about. I am also quite certain I owe you an overdue apology.

Harry looked nervously at the man. He glanced around at the Dursleys and remembered their disgust for him.

He made his decision.

The old man moved to place a hand on Harry's back to guide him from the room. Harry flinched, which caused the man stiffen before gently guiding Harry out the front door. He shut the door behind him and reached into his jacket. Harry looked at him warily, had he made a mistake?

The man presented him with a letter with a yellowing envelope.

"Harry, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I am a wizard, as you yourself are." He gestured for Harry to open the letter. Harry did so and read the contents as they both exited the property of Number 4 Privet Drive.

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

 **Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

 **(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme**

 **Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

 **Dear Mr. Potter,**

 **We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts**

 **School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all**

 **necessary books and equipment.**

 **Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Minerva McGonagall,**

 **Deputy Headmistress**

Harry looked up at the man with confusion. He only saw sad blue eyes. Then he felt something. Something odd. Like he was moving and the world was still. He felt things that weren't his and he stiffened and gasped. The old man's eyes were now wide with surprise.

"Harry, have you ever done or seen something odd?" He asked after a moment more of walking away from the Dursleys'.

Harry felt frightened, should he tell the old man, Dumbledore, anything?

"Hogwarts is a school for magic, Harry. It is a place where young wizards and witches go to learn, and hone their abilities." Dumbledore seemed to eye him carefully.

"Magic?" Harry said softly, almost in a whisper.

"That's correct," said Dumbledore, who was looking at him oddly.

Harry met Dumbledore's eyes and his curiosity got the better of him.

The emotions were heavy, worry, guilt and something else he couldn't identify. He saw a handsome boy in a bed with Dumbledore beside him and he heard…

He was back in his body with a wince. Dumbledore gave him a measured look at that.

"I will have to ask you not to do that again, Harry."

He stiffened, was he going back to the Dursleys? He nearly panicked on the spot.

"I'm sorry sir I didn't know…"

"Didn't know others could do it too? I suspect you felt me enter your mind earlier. Just as you felt it then, I felt it when you entered mine. It is possible for wizards to use this talent, called Legilimency, and dive into the thoughts of another. It is also possible for wizards to defend against this." Dumbledore explained slowly.

Harry nodded quickly, looking at the ground.

"The things I can do, it's all magic then?"

"What else do you do, young man?"

Dumbledore hadn't called him boy again. He must have noticed somehow. Or perhaps pulled it form his head. Harry paused.

"I can see other people's feelings, when I want, sometimes more. Like that boy near the bed…" Harry trailed off again, seeing Dumbledore's encouraging look he continued faster.

"I can move to places I've been to," he started softly, "and I can move things and, when Dudley or Vernon... well, when they were upset, I could heal really quick." He looked down, slightly ashamed. "I knew I was different, but I didn't ever think that…" He recovered after a moment. "I can speak to snakes as well. I found out at the zoo."

Dumbledore looked down at him with guilt and concern.

"Can you do magic? Will you show me, please?" Harry felt the desperate desire to see that he wasn't alone.

Dumbledore nodded after a moment and held out a pointed, knobbly stick. He gestured, and Harry's clothes abruptly changed. The holes mended and the fabric shrunk to fit his scrawny frame. He looked up in shock and glee.

"Thank you," he gushed out.

"For the clothes?" Dumbledore asked curiously raising an eyebrow.

"You're going to let me keep them? I thought after you showed me…" Harry said slowly.

Dumbledore nodded and smiled slightly but it was almost a grimace. It was unnatural on his wizened face. Harry quietly thanked him again for letting him keep the clothes.

After a moment of walking Dumbledore seemed content to wait for Harry.

"Am I really going to this school?" He asked after reading the letter again. "I don't have any money or an owl. I wouldn't know where to buy any of this." Was he going to have to stay? He was hyperventilating slightly.

"Your parents did not leave you destitute, Harry. You have funds at the wizarding bank, Gringotts. We can purchase your books and school items in Diagon Alley, I can help you find everything there. Clothes too, since I would be loathe to return you to your family, and I doubt you wish to return. Do you have any personal affects you wish to take from your… room?"

Harry shook his head.

"You would help me find everything?" He asked.

"If you wish."

Harry nodded quickly, and Dumbledore seemed to smile in earnest.

They continued to walk, with Harry occasionally asking questions about the wizarding world. Harry asked about his parents, if Dumbledore knew them. Dumbledore told him about a man named Voldemort, who other wizards were afraid to say the name of, and how Harry had survived that night with nothing but a scar upon his forehead.

"Voldemort was destroyed, Halloween night ten years ago. His supporters were arrested and imprisoned. You are quite famous in the wizarding world Harry. There isn't a child that doesn't know your name."

Harry struggled to believe him. How could _he_ be so important? As if knowing what he was thinking Dumbledore continued.

"I must apologize. I didn't know the Dursleys would be so terrible to you. I had thought they would treat you like family."

Harry wasn't sure what he meant. As far as he knew, the Dursleys _did_ treat him like family. They couldn't _not_ treat him as family considering he _was_ family. However they treated him was the way family must be treated, almost by definition.

"It's alright, sir. How do your family treat one another?" He asked, before realizing his mistake and apologizing for such a personal question.

Dumbledore seemed to age in those moment. "It's quite alright, young man. I am a Headmaster, and curiosity is a virtue we seek to encourage."

There was a pause as they turned a street corner.

"Was that boy, the one you were thinking about, was he like me too?"

Dumbledore smiled softly.

"No, I don't believe so."

Harry felt confused, but that appeared to be becoming the norm by this point, so he let it drop.

"Are you prepared to depart?"

Harry nodded, smiling brightly.

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Harry had been shocked at the piles of gold in his vault. Just a day ago he could never have considered such a thing, never mind belonging to him. It was a ghost of his parents touching upon his life. He was also curious about what Dumbledore had retrieved from Gringotts but, between the dizzying revelations of the day, and how rude it would have been to ask, he stayed quiet. Dumbledore retrieved the parcel with a wink aimed at the boy, before dropping the key to his trust vault into Harry's hand, which he gripped like a lifeline.

Dumbledore had taken him to the alley and, after helping him purchase his schooling supplies and a beautiful snowy owl, had checked him into a room in a place called the Leaky Cauldron. Harry felt was an odd name for a place. Dumbledore had also made sure to scare away any wizards looking to meet Harry. The young wizard thought it was odd people wanted to meet him so badly, but he decided it might be smart to imitate Dumbledore and just ignore it.

He felt especially pleased to hold his wand. He often held it just to feel it in his palm, indulging in the sensation of the wood against his skin. A supple, eleven-inch branch of Holly, with a slightly carved handle and a phoenix feather core. He felt proud to hold it and it gave him a rush just to feel it's electric touch against his palm.

He was concerned about its brother, or rather, the _owner_ of his wand's twin. Ollivander had called it curious but Dumbledore didn't seem at all surprised. Which Harry supposed made for a curious situation.

Dumbledore had recommended several books for Harry to purchase, alongside several sets of both wizarding and muggle clothing. Harry had taken Dumbledore's suggestions to heart. Harry, now in his room in the Leaky Cauldron, did not have much to do except read – unless he wanted to be ogled at by passersby in Diagon Alley, should he feel the desire to explore it – so he mostly stayed cooped up and read his new books, comfortably ensconced in his room where Tom would bring meals. They food was _good_ too, and he felt warm sitting by the fire in his room.

He learned that he loved the smell of the burning logs. The Dursley's fireplace likely hadn't been lit since the building was constructed. Too _messy_ , too much work. It was new, and therefore wonderful.

A few days into his stay, he received two books from Dumbledore, _An Introductory Guide to the Mind Arts_ , and _The Mind, The Maze_ for his Birthday. Harry had never received a present before in his life and he had to wipe away a few tears when he opened it.

Harry fell asleep holding it close to his chest.

Dumbledore had also delivered several potions. He had stated his concern that Harry had been malnourished and his growth had been discouraged by the Dursleys. His father was, Harry was told, taller and broader at his age than he was now. So, the potions were a means to correct his mistreatment under the Dursley's 'care'. They wouldn't make him buff, like the people from Dudley's television, but it would help him fill out and make him taller. Unless Dumbledore was wrong, and Harry was supposed to be this tall.

Harry doubted it. Dumbledore hadn't been wrong yet.

Dumbledore also gave him something for his sight, which was atrocious even _with_ his glasses due to the poor prescription. It would seem that his constant war to keep his damaged glasses on his nose hadn't gone unnoticed by the professor.

Harry had sent Dumbledore a thank you, hoping beyond hope he was using his owl properly. He wasn't sure that he was, but it seemed innocuous enough even if he was doing it wrong.

After a few days he had finished several books meant to introduce muggleborn witches and wizards to the magical world. Touching on laws and expectations and unique customs which separated the worlds both literally, through the statute of secrecy, and metaphorically, through the differences in greetings and exclamations. Harry thought anyone who shouted things like 'Merlin's beard!' had to be at least a little odd.

Finally, he had received a ring as the head of the Potter family. It made sense, given he was the only survivor, who else could it be? Although, it didn't really let him _do_ anything, nor access any vaults save his trust vault. The Potter family owned several properties which could now only be described as vacant lots. Voldemort had razed Potter Manor, the Scottish cottage and a French estate in his pursuit of Harry's parents.

Since then, he had been anxiously awaiting the day he would board that famous train. He had read multiple introductions to magical theory in the meantime, and the first several chapters of his school books. The theory seemed difficult to him. When he compared the manner he performed and thought of legilimency, to the way it was introduced in the book, it was vastly different. He could only hope that, in practice, magic would be easier than these books made it out to be. He understood the principles from his own experience. He had to desire something and push his will into it. The clearer he wanted it, and the more he tried, the more likely it was to work.

It seemed similar to the idea of intent and power for spells. Which he understood was important for transfiguration.

He hoped he would do well and the teachers would like him. He wanted to at least have _that_ over his old school, even if he didn't think he would make any friends.

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When the day for the train ride came Harry felt unprepared. He had visited King's Cross Station so that he would know where to go when the time came but he had been unable to find the platform. Dumbledore assured him that he should walk through the pillars between platforms nine and ten but when he attempted it he had made something of a fool of himself. He guessed that the platform wasn't always there and that when the time came, it would be ready.

He willed himself into an alley he had selected when scouting the station, the way he used to do. Apparition, he now knew it was called. He knew it was illegal for him to apparate but there was no way to track him. It was something they registered wizards and witches for so they could receive help if they splinched themselves, mostly to protect the Statute of Secrecy. He felt confident that he wouldn't splinch himself. Admittedly, he was carrying more than he usually did. But, he had practiced beforehand to make sure he would be able to do it; especially with Hedwig.

He arrived with a snap of displaced air. He immediately felt anxious and attempted to clear his mind, but failed repeatedly. He pushed on and made his way to platforms nine and ten.

He watched a gaggle of red heads push through the crowds ahead of him. The eldest redhead, a plump woman, said something about muggles which he could hear from where he was. The tallest redhead had already pushed through the barrier. It seemed simple enough. Enter the platform by walking through the wall, just like Dumbledore had said.

 _Do I risk doing it without help?_

He considered attempting the platform without assistance, and eventually decided to wait until the family of redheads were through. It helped to remind himself that it was likely others would come along, should he need help, and he could just ask them. It was unlikely he would be the last to show up for the train.

He braced himself as he strode forward, not knowing what was on the other side.

 _Its crowded._

Dozens of people were pushing their way towards the train and then away. Waving parents, excited children, and a whole menagerie of pets. Harry nearly panicked and apparated back to his cupboard. He steeled himself and kept his head down, aiming for the closest entrance to the train that he could see. He wasn't spotted, which was nice. His heart beat frantically in his chest. He tried to calm himself with some basic exercises, but it did little of use. He chose the first available empty compartment, which happened to be by the door he entered. It seems that his fellow students didn't like to be near the entrances and exits to the train. He closed the door behind him after lifting his trunk up to the rack, and pulled the curtains.

He sank into the seat with a sigh of relief, his heart finally slowing down from its staccato beat. It still jumped when people passed his compartment though. He wanted to lock the door, but he wasn't sure it would be allowed. He really didn't want his teachers to hate him on the first day.

 _They should at least get to know me before they decide to hate me._

He relaxed a little and found the mind exercises worked better. He pulled out his wand and grinned. It was time to finally cast a spell. He ran through the first motion of the levitation spell. It was the first charm in the book, so it seemed like the best place to start. He had arrived early enough that he had plenty of time before the train was supposed to leave.

He performed the wand movement as he had practiced and spoke the incantation flawlessly.

The quill he had set on the other side of the compartment didn't so much as quiver. He frowned and tried again. Nothing. He might have actually singed it a little. He tried once more, and it might have wiggled, but only just. He decided that it was just his imagination that it moved at all. Was he already going to fail?

He did it again, desperately and nothing happened. He was losing focus.

He cleared his mind and focused on lifting the quill. He performed the incantation and wand movement flawlessly. The quill rose to meet the elevation of his wand tip.

He grinned excitedly and almost jumped at his success until his excitement turned the quill to ash.

 _Oops!_

He frowned and brought out another quill. This time he levitated it perfectly and directed it about the compartment easily. He had time to try out a few other spells too. The first few charms, some of the transfiguration basics, and one of the defense spells. However, without a target, he wouldn't know if his lightly powered stunner actually worked. He didn't want to try it on Hedwig, who had been softly hooting at his success.

Hedwig hooted again as someone stopped outside his compartment. Harry pulled out _The Mind, The Maze_ for some comfort. He jumped when the person knocked politely.

"Hello?" A girl's voice.

"Oh, it's not locked," he replied nervously.

The person outside opened the door and looked at him. She was pretty, which didn't help him much, with Scandinavian features, honey colored hair and blue eyes.

"Are you studying?" She asked politely. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Make yourself comfortable."

He stood and placed her trunk for her. He sat back down afterwards and immediately returned to his book to try and escape. She sat down opposite him and just stared at him for a moment, her eyes naturally gravitating to his forehead. He saw her eyes widen and felt his heart race as he promptly panicked. He did his best to stay composed and cleared his mind. He relaxed. The train pulled away from the station.

 _It was one girl. He could leave if he wanted._

"Can I do something for you?" He asked.

She returned her gaze to his eyes and he saw through her. He spread his touch across her mind gently. He didn't want her to notice if she knew anything about Occlumency. She knew he was Harry Potter, but she was also nervous and trying to calm down, which made him feel slightly better. At least he wasn't alone in that regard.

 _She wants to ask me something. But she won't._

True enough, she didn't. She extended her hand instead.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass. Thanks for inviting me in and helping with my trunk."

 _Polite and cold. She wants to…_

He took her hand.

"I'm Harry Potter and it was my pleasure," he spoke clearly, enunciating each word like he was tasting them.

He could see her hair stand on end.

 _I make her uncomfortable. The way I talk. I am speaking too softly._

He would speak louder, then. Harry's fingers on the inside of Daphne's skull rested gently on the surface. He was unwilling to dive deeper, and wasn't even sure if he was able. The mind of a witch seemed different than the mind of a muggle. His own ability was likely too clumsy and while he felt certain an accomplished Occlumens would have noticed by now, that doesn't mean she knew nothing about the mind arts.

 _Pureblood…Sacred twenty eight…Potter Ring…_

He felt the words in her thoughts. He resisted the immediate urge to withdraw his hand to look at the ring and settled for merely withdrawing his hand.

He felt impressions of nervousness, a desire to find something, a desire to make things move.

He cocked his head at her.

 _Am I puzzle to her? Or do I merely puzzle her?_

He decided that she wouldn't hurt him and turned his gaze back to his book. Daphne glanced at it and read the title.

" _The Mind, The Maze_?" She looked at him for a moment, his eyes moved away from the description on sending impressions to coax out potentially valuable memories as she explained, "My father had a copy in the family library."

"Have you read it?" This was definitely a more interesting turn in the conversation.

She shook her head and he felt disappointed, and relieved, of course. He turned his gaze back to the words. There was a means to send pain through the link to another mind. To use emotions and feelings to find what one desired. The book described a probe for deeper thoughts as well. He frowned. He had always felt like a bird flying through the skies of another mind. Or a fish through their thoughts. Perhaps he had never been deep enough.

"Where did you get it?" She asked, maintaining the conversation. To be fair, there hadn't been enough silence to break the dialogue truly, but he had hoped from her nonverbal answer that she was done with him.

"It was a birthday present," Harry answered softly, with a touch of happiness.

She grinned back, "From who?"

He frowned, the question was slightly personal but there was nothing illegal about Legilimency or learning it. It was difficult to prove that it was being used and it was more about the rudeness and invasion of privacy it represented than anything else for common wizards. Wizards who had powerful secrets to keep might react strongly to the breach and defend themselves – both directly and legally – but the vast majority of the population knew little about the mind arts and wouldn't detect the breach at all. It wasn't like he would get Dumbledore in trouble if he was honest. Not illegal, just obscure. There were of course exceptions so that the ministry could keep secrets but, aside from that, it was just magic.

He rubbed the crease in his jawbone where he broke it. Or had it broken, he supposed.

"Professor Dumbledore gave it to me," he finally answered.

Her eyes widened.

[Headmaster… trained…]

"Has the headmaster given you any other training?"

He frowned. "No training, just the book."

He felt her relief or… something. He struggled to identify. She was… scared that the headmaster might have trained him. No that wasn't quite right. Why? Would others be put on edge from that too, or was it just her?

 _She meets my eyes even after seeing I'm studying the mind? She must believe that she would detect a breach or otherwise that I can't do it wordlessly, let alone wandlessly._

It was a fair assumption, against most first-year students. That, or she was simply ignorant about the mechanics of the art; also possible.

He returned to his book and the landscape passed them by them in silence for what felt like hours. He felt extremely uncomfortable. In the end she had withdrawn a notebook two write something down before getting a book of her own to read.

There was another knock. A bushy haired girl with large front teeth opened the door without preamble.

 _Rude._

"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost his."

Daphne looked up and shook her head while Harry looked at her confused.

"Why don't you use the _point-me_ charm?"

The bushy haired girl seemed surprised. Harry pulled out his wand from the pocket in the front of his robes near his chest and held it out.

" _Point-me Neville's Toad_."

The wand swung to the right angled towards the bushy haired girl and towards the front of the train.

"It's that way," he informed her softly.

"Was that one of our charms? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you. Are you a second year?"

Harry blinked and looked at her.

 _She's just anxious. She's worried she won't make any friends and she'll be miserable here._

 _Just like me._

"I'm Harry Potter, and this is Daphne Greengrass. I'll be a first year here." He realized he wasn't certain if Daphne was a first year. He looked at her.

"I am also a first year," Daphne added politely.

The bushy haired girl looked at Harry, ignoring Daphne and looking at his forehead.

 _Even more rude._

"Are you really? I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History,_ _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

 _What?_

"You've read all about me?" Harry felt concerned. He most certainly hoped she was just being rude and wasn't telling the truth. He would hate if everyone already knew all about his _family_.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

She left as swiftly as she came. Dragging the boy – Neville, Harry presumed – with her.

 _My sympathies._

He wrinkled his nose.

"She made it difficult to be polite," said Daphne.

Harry stood up and shut the compartment door.

"She was a bit much, but I imagine that she's nervous. It might be difficult being a muggleborn, getting sent off to school to another world." Harry blinked. "What did she mean about houses?"

"Houses are just a way to divide the students into similar groups. It makes it easier for us to make friends." Daphne returned, she seemed happier answering his questions than asking him questions.

He met her gaze.

"You don't put much stock in the houses?"

She shook her head. "My mother was in Ravenclaw and my father was in Slytherin. It doesn't really matter which house you are in. You can still be friends with people outside of yours."

It made sense Harry decided.

"Your family are all also magical?"

She closed her book and set it on her lap.

"My father, mother and sister. I have more extended family than that, but largely, yes."

Harry nodded. "More family?"

She bit her bottom lip and Harry realized he could have been more specific with his question.

"Most pureblood wizards and witches are related. You and I are probably seventh or eighth cousins or something." Harry narrowed his brow at that.

The compartment door slid open again, this time without even a knock. Harry scowled.

Three boys entered, and the middle one immediately spotted Harry. "Is it true?" He asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So, it's you, is it?" His eyes flicked over to Daphne. "Greengrass," he drawled with a smirk. He reminded Harry of Dudley at that moment.

 _I should have locked the door._

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards, or bookends.

"Oh, this is Crabbe," the blonde muttered absently as he turned back to Harry, "and this is Goyle. My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Daphne seemed to snicker. Harry felt confused. He didn't know what to do. He cleared his head as swiftly as he could.

Draco gave an arrogant leering look at Daphne, " _You're_ laughing at me? I expected better from you Greengrass, it's not like your name is _completely_ dirt." Daphne glowered at Draco.

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. He saw through Draco. He felt the connection and pushed, the endless boredom of Harry's cupboard and the pain of a beating slipped into Draco's mind. The boy flinched stepping back wildly from Harry. He had no occlumency, no defence.

Harry clumsily shoved fear behind Draco's eyes before he lost control of whatever he was doing.

His body guards stepped forward and Draco fell back scrambling away. The two oafs were too dumb to understand what was happening. Draco fled from the compartment and his lackeys trailed behind looking confused with scrunched faces.

 _I hope I don't look like that when I am confused._

He shivered at the thought.

Harry stood and closed the door again with a huff. Daphne was watching him. It was a little unnerving, but he attempted to ignore it.

 _That was careless of me. He might have known occlumency. Stupid._

Harry breathed deep and tried to forgive himself, but he couldn't help but cringe at the memory of his actions.

When Hermione returned and immediately opened the door again, Harry actually snapped his book shut in frustration.

Daphne giggled lightly. He spared her a glance only long enough to discover that she found his attempts to keep the door closed and other people's attempts to open it comedic.

He could see it, and the different perspective calmed him enough to turn to Hermione without a scowl.

"What now?" He asked, tone no longer quite as polite, but still soft.

Hermione blinked at him owlishly.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"There's been no fighting, and everyone keeps entering this compartment." Daphne returned. Her tone was a great deal more measured than his.

"All right." She gave them that curious look again. "I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors."

Daphne giggled lightly at Harry's frustration as Hermione left.

Harry stood. "I'll leave while you change," he said simply. He stood without further ceremony, took his robes out, and departed for the loo to change.

When they did finally arrive, the First-Years gathered around a giant of a man named Hagrid. Harry ended up sharing a boat with Daphne, a freckled brunette girl and a boy of African descent with dark hair and darker eyes.

Harry saw the castle and immediately fell in love. It was sitting there across a great dark lake, still like a mirror, and perched regally atop a mountain. Its windows sparkled with orange and yellow light, while the turrets and towers rose around the castle like an ornate stone crown.

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When they reached the other side of the lake, Neville somehow rediscovered his Toad, causing Harry to blink and glance around at the slippery rock they had berthed on.

 _How…I mean it was on the train…Where…?_

No one else seemed as confused by that as he was. He decided to ignore it and explain it with magic. A Professor McGonagall came out to explain the house system, and Harry jumped when a crowd of silvery ghosts floated around the corner. Or rather, _through_ the corner. The children formed a line at McGonagall's command and followed her inside the Great Hall. The name almost didn't do the room justice. It was lit by floating candles, and glittering gold goblets, dishes and cutlery sat at four long tables. Harry barely even noticed the many people inside. The room had completely enraptured him. The sky looked dark and magnificent within the ceiling of the hall.

There was an old hat that sang a quick song, and the first years were called up one by one to have it placed on their heads. Daphne was sorted into Slytherin with the freckled brunette and Draco – she had his condolences – and Hermione went to Gryffindor with the African boy from the boat, he also had Harry's best wishes.

"Harry Potter!" Harry swallowed his fear and cleared his mind.

He sat down amongst the whispers and the people staring before the hat fell over his eyes.

Hmm," said a small voice in his ear, (or was it in his head?) "difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see."

He wondered if that hat actually believed that.

"You don't think you have courage? I see you facing your fears already."

Harry remembered the crowded train. He decided the hat might have a point.

 _It still smells a bit odd though._

It chuckled in his ear.

"Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you? Somewhere to escape? You could lay low in Ravenclaw, you know? Hufflepuff would see you surrounded by loyal friends. No, no. They would never let you hide. Or… I believe… perhaps… Ravenclaw!" The hat roared the house name and Harry shakily returned it to McGonagall before walking over to the table, to great applause.

 _The applaud me, but they don't even know me._

Dumbledore gave a speech, which Harry thought was odd, about dying if you entered the third-floor corridor. He hadn't seemed one half so much mad before, especially with the nonsensical words. Harry felt that was strange to say the least. But the feast was delicious.

Harry stumbled up to the Ravenclaw tower with the other first-years. He was exhausted. The day had been draining, what with everything that happened.

Penelope Clearwater, a prefect, explained that to enter the room, one would need to answer a riddle. She rapped the knocker sharply and it began:

" _I don't know where I am, I don't know where I am going, but once I am gone I am what I am. What am I?"_

Penelope looked out at the exhausted first years.

 _Lost._

Harry didn't think he had said it aloud, but evidently he was losing his faculties, as the door swung open at his word.

Schedules were handed out, they would all be the same until third year, and the comings and goings of the school were explained. Harry looked about and saw an imitation of the planets hanging in the air, drifting slightly and spinning around, presumably in time with their larger counterparts. There were bookcases and a cozy-looking fire, along with several places to read, and even what looked like two orator's platforms.

 _Do they have house debates?_

That was a pretty stupid question. Of course they did.

Harry looked up at the books. Stacked high in the tower. He was led up to the dormitory where his bed was waiting for him. He changed and fell asleep without a word to his new dormmates. He felt warm inside, despite his exhaustion.

This was important. This was good. He could belong here.

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" _There was never anything to be gained from observing what humans said to one another - language was just there to hide their thoughts." Terry Pratchet_

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 **I think that went well. Please review any spelling mistake or points for improvement.**

 **Thank you,**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **WG**

 **Edited 4/18/18.**


	2. Players and Pieces

**Back again. I re-read the last chapter once I posted it. Immediately there are things I would rewrite to be clearer, but no changes that I would make to characters or their interactions.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **There didn't seem to be any** _ **urgent**_ **errors anyone wanted to alert me to so I'll roll with it.**

 **Romance will be slow burn. No twelve year olds sleeping in the same beds, holding hands, and bonding souls. I have never liked soul bonds and marriage contracts here. There is nothing wrong with their use as plot devices except for their overuse and the rush to make things happen** _ **immediately**_ **.**

 **I always thought it was odd that everyone talked about how similar Harry and Voldemort were. That's why I had Dumbledore get him. I wrote that scene with the scene from the half-blood prince where Dumbledore talks to Tom Riddle open to compare.**

 **Important!So other people's thoughts and memories will be in brackets. Harry's thoughts will be in italics. Let us begin with the first half of first year!Important**

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" _All you have to do is take a close look at yourself and you will understand everyone else." - Isaac Asimov_

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"Look!"

"Where is he?"

"I don't see him."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face? Did you see…you know… _it?"_

 _Very subtle._

Harry thought.

"His scar?"

The whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People had lined up outside classrooms and stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors. A redheaded boy from Gryffindor was pointing with a grin on his face.

Harry wished they wouldn't, he already found himself missing his cupboard, and just wanted to concentrate on finding his classes. Navigating minds was a difficult task, but the castle was an absolute labyrinth, and if he made a mistake he had to wait for stairs to return. He huffed indignantly.

Harry dodged a vanishing step before turning around. Apparently, the staircase he had chosen went somewhere different on Tuesdays, or depending on its mood. Consistent landmarks were difficult to find because the armor and paintings wouldn't stay still.

He was forced to sidestep Mrs. Norris, whom he was almost certain was trying to purposefully trip him, sending him tumbling down a floor or plummeting to the ground way below.

 _Who designed this castle?_

But there was _magic_ , and he loved it. He loved tracking the planets and constellations at midnight every Wednesday atop the astronomy tower. He was told the locations of planets could affect potions and ambient magic. He wasn't sure what it meant yet, but knew that it was important. He was less enthused about taking care of plants in Herbology, despite Professor Sprout's various assurances regarding the twisting potted plants and fungi.

He eyed one with thick, spiraling vines. It writhed slowly in place, and he was almost certain that it eyed him back.

On the other hand, he absolutely loathed the History of Magic teacher. If Peeves' disturbances weren't enough to convince him to learn how to banish ghosts and poltergeists, then Professor Binns' teaching did the trick.

Some teachers were excited to see him, like Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. He fell off his pile of books the first time he called Harry's name for the register. Flitwick had later confided that his mother was quite the talent with charms, and Harry resolved to come by again to find out more about his mother.

He was astounded when Professor McGonagall changed her desk into a pig… but to be honest, he didn't think it was that useful. How often would he need pork that desperately? Harry had already practiced their first transfiguration, so completed it flawlessly, much to Hermione's chagrin. The bushy-haired girl huffed and looked down at her pointy, matte-grey match. It was most certainly still made of wood, and not particularly sharp. Hermione tended to lecture as much as possible, and even those who sat far away from her were not particularly safe. It annoyed Harry to no end.

The class everyone had been most looking forward to, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, Quirrell's lessons didn't live up to the expectations. He once felt a pinch behind his eyes during the class and nearly fell out of his seat, much to Malfoy's delight. Harry looked around for who could have poked at him, but saw no one. He had to assure himself that Legilimency was rare, and he doubted the stammering Quirrell had the talent. That aside, Harry was always worried he would smell like garlic the rest of the day after being in that class and he occasionally felt his scar give a painful throb.

He had been excited for potions, but it seemed that Professor Snape had taken an immediate disliking towards him; although, he couldn't imagine what he might have done wrong. Professor Snape, like Professor Flitwick, started the class by taking a register. Unlike the diminutive Professor however, he paused at Harry's name only to make a harsh comment or two.

Professor Snape finished calling their names and looked up at the class. His eyes were dark. He asked Harry a series of questions which he had no answer for. He resolved to look up the answers later though. He _would_ master potions.

Harry met the giant Hagrid once or twice in the Halls and always stopped to say hello. He always made sure to smile politely at the large man during meal times, even while the other students gossiped about the latest break-in to Gringotts.

Harry decided that his favorite room was the library. It was massive. On his first visit he had stopped to ask the librarian everything he could think of, so he would know where to go. She glared at him and made sure he knew not to use magic near the books, but was far politer once she believed he was sufficiently cowed. Harry liked to believe that she had favored him for asking about her library, but he might have just been reading into things.

The biggest surprise was Daphne Greengrass. She would occasionally walk with him in the halls with her friend Tracey Davis, the freckled girl from the boat. She would also opt to join him in the library on occasion, and sit with him while he studied. When he found an empty room to practice his spells in, she made sure to stop by frequently. She occasionally asked for small pointers regarding the casting of spells but soon learned he was useless for the theory, even though he was top of the class in terms of casting. It was odd that she would meet with him. He found himself thinking about it a lot.

"Your wand movement and incantation are perfect for the spell." He was trying to walk her through the needle transfiguration.

"Then why isn't it working?" She gave him a glare before turning back to her second match stick. The first one was a little too… singed, to work with. Enough so that they had decided to just start again.

He felt her frustration alongside a tide of more tangled emotions.

[A building…a girl who looked like Daphne but had shorter and slightly darker hair... a tawny owl]

 _She's homesick._

He realized.

Harry had felt that quite a bit from students around the castle, and found it a strange concept. Sure, he sometimes missed his cupboard, but not the building. Not the _people_ who lived there, certainly.

Harry looked at her in concern. She might be his first friend – he wasn't quite so ignorant as to not realise that much – it was the _why_ that drove him mad... She seemed smart, and rarely thought about his scar, at least that he could see, and made an effort not to stare at his forehead.

"You're distracted and not focusing on the spell. You're thinking of the end result without picturing it _changing_." He thought she was going to snap at him for a second. She instead took a deep breath and pointed her wand at the stick, waving it in the prescribed motions. The transfiguration _sort_ of worked, and Daphne squealed excitedly. It was certainly better than Hermione's transfiguration earlier.

"It's better than Grangers," she whooped, as if in agreement.

 _But Granger did it partially yesterday._

Harry didn't say it. Hermione Granger annoyed Daphne as much as she did Harry.

Harry picked up the match and inspected it. The shape hadn't changed all that much, but it was definitely metal. It wasn't as accomplished as his own, but it was good. He set it back down.

"Finish it. Focus on narrowing the end and putting a small hole for a string." She looked at him. She had already been pulling out another matchstick from a box.

"Or start from scratch," he said quickly, not wanting to actually tell her what to do. She giggled at his behavior and Harry felt certain that he made a mistake.

 _She's laughing at me._

She finished her metal match before starting on a new one.

"Do you miss your home?" He asked her, he wanted to try and help, even if he was worried endlessly about making a faux pas.

She nodded. "I write to my sister and mother, but it's not the same as actually talking with them. They're family, you know?" She immediately looked horrified as the words left her mouth and winced, pre-empting his reaction.

He laughed openly though, an actual laugh. He shook his head. "No, I can't say I do." He was still smiling, and could feel the relief radiate off her.

Acting normal around Daphne got easier, and he managed to have many conversations with her friend Tracey. She talked a lot, and very quickly. A conversation with Tracey was fairly easy. You just had to ask her for her opinions about some class or well-known painting in the castle and she was off, holding the conversation all on her own.

"Are you looking forward to the flying lessons later?" He asked as the three of them walked to lunch.

Tracey grinned.

"Quidditch isn't for me, but sometimes flying on training brooms was fun. I had several as a I child. I had to give them up because eventually they started to misbehave, you know? The charms on them would go all fuzzy. I used to chase them around the house because I swear they started trying to avoid me-"

He caught an image of a broom spiriting out of a closet, just out of the reach of two hands. He chuckled softly at the foreign memory. He was getting better. He used to only get a single image for a memory, like a snapshot. Now he got three or four, although it only happened for strong memories. Enough to create motion, like a movie, if only barely. Two frames of a girl's arms frantically grabbing for a small broom, if that. Something between moments which helped him know what he was seeing, though it wasn't exactly an image.

"-It was probably because I crashed so much. I don't think they liked it when I flew them, but I can't be too sure. You don't think we'll be hurt, do you?"

Harry doubted it, but he had practiced the _episky_ spell on himself nevertheless. Daphne hadn't been happy when she saw him cut the back of his hand to practice, but had relaxed slightly once he explained himself. Healing spells had always been high on his list. They were simply useful to know.

"-Do you think the brooms here have personality, like mine? The school brooms are supposed to be fairly odd, but I don't know how enchanted objects do that. Have you noticed how the armor suits moves all the time? How do you think that happens? There isn't, like, a brain or anything in them. So how do they think? Or, how could my brooms see me coming!? They didn't have eyes!"

He knew Daphne was thankful that he didn't mind Tracey's talkativeness. Why should he care? He was just glad he wasn't really expected to answer. He no longer panicked when someone would talk to him, and articulating himself, as well as responding to others, was getting easier every day. Although, his heart still jumped into his throat whenever Daphne would suddenly sit down next to him in the library, or when Tracey would stop talking to him and expect a response, blinking at him with big eyes…like she was doing right now.

"We could ask Flitwick about it, he would know."

He knew it would upset her if she thought he hadn't been listening, even if she sometimes berated herself about talking so much.

"I suppose that's a good idea." She mused absently. "Did you know he is supposed to be part goblin?" He did; she had already told him that twice, and that was just today. He nodded back all the same. She and Daphne split off from him to go to the Slytherin table while he came in and sat next near to Su Li, still at a respectful distance.

She smiled at him, waving shyly, and he smiled back in greeting.

"Hello Harry."

"Hey Su." He was close to his housemates, or closer to them than he had ever been to another group of people besides Daphne and Tracey. She turned back to her lunch and he prepared a plate.

Lunch was delicious as always.

After lunch it was time for the flying lesson. Everyone was losing their minds about it. Or seemed to be. Harry had read a little about the sport so he knew the basic rules. Though, he couldn't quite remember if the snitch was worth a hundred and twenty points or a hundred and fifty. Or maybe just a hundred.

Alright, so he didn't know much, but he knew the balls and some basic rules. That had to count, right?

Draco Malfoy certainly knew more, and he wasn't shy about saying so. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams, and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

Indeed, every single person who grew up in the wizarding world had similar stories. Michael Corner and Terry Boot had told several stories about near misses and incredible dodging skill. The sort of death-defying stunts sure to impress their housemates. Even Mandy Brocklehurst had boasted about racing her sister.

There had been some debate in the common room about muggle and wizard sports. Terry Boot had had an argument with Anthony Goldstein about Anthony's Tottenham Hotspur's 'Yid Army' poster, which eventually moved on to muggle and wizarding sports in general. The poster had made Michael Corner nervous, he could often be seen glancing at it, sure that the players would move as soon as he would look away. Despite Harry's and Anthony's insistence that it was normal, Michael believed he was being pranked somehow.

Harry could easily see through their lies about riding brooms with a glance, their words dripped with falsehoods, but they seemed to be having fun with it. It didn't take a mind-reader to realise that, on some level, they all knew the others were lying too. It confused Harry more than why no one had banished Peeves.

Neville Longbottom, the boy with the teleporting toad and unfortunate name, had evidently never been near a broom. His Grandmother had – with seemingly prophetic foresight – seen fit to never let him near one. Harry quietly agreed, eyeing the boy with the almost constantly-red Remembrall. Neville was missing his tie today, and probably a few other pieces of clothing. The boy had detonated his matchstick in transfiguration with impressive, if alarming, force. Harry felt that the remembrall was a good thing for Neville to have, even if it didn't seem to help him much. His grandmother had tried her best it would seem.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was, if for different reasons. This was something she couldn't learn by heart out of a book, though she had done her utmost to try. Harry had seen her in the library reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_. It was a dense tome even he wouldn't touch. He could hear her lecturing the other Gryffindors this morning from half the hall and two tables away.

Of course, she still looked nervous standing with the rest of them in the cloistered quad that had been set aside for the lesson.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived precisely on time. She had close-cropped, gray hair, and alarming yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. He was sure that it was fine… probably.

"Stick out your right hand, over your broom," Madam Hooch called sharply, wisely stood far away from Seamus Finnigan, who produced explosions more violent and frequent than Neville.

 _Someone must have warned her._

"Now say, 'Up!'" She commanded firmly.

"Up," Harry all but whispered. The wood snapped firmly into his hand. He grinned.

Later, Harry would watch as Neville floated away uncontrollably, then start to fall. Harry watched him fumble his Remembrall and, before he knew what he was doing, he was twenty feet off the ground and had the little glass sphere firmly in-hand. Harry found himself smiling, enjoying the wind whistling past him and exhilaration of feeling his fingers close around the ball. He would, however, be wrong about what he had thought earlier, about them not getting hurt.

Neville fell, and he hit the ground with a noise which made Harry think of the Dursleys. Harry watched Neville's broom float away, lazy and free. He felt weirdly certain that it wasn't coming back. Harry descended to the ground, still holding the Remembrall, as Madam Hooch collected the boy. But, when she picked him up to take him to the Hospital Wing, Harry's Head of House had come excitedly waddling across the grass.

"Marvelous catch Mr. Potter, truly marvelous. Would you follow me for a moment?"

 _Had he been watching for something like this?_

He dragged Harry off to meet with the Ravenclaw captain. Stating that Harry had potential as a seeker. Roger Davies, a chaser on the Ravenclaw team, later informed him that all the Heads of Houses watched the lesson to spot talent. He learned from Flitwick that his father possessed a talent at the game and had played as a chaser for Gryffindor. Harry didn't know what to feel about this alleged similarity to his father. He knew that it was important, as a nebulous concept, but it was a strangely distant feeling.

Daphne had practically dragged him away after dinner.

"You're going to be a seeker?" She seemed more thrilled at the idea than he did.

"Well, I don't have a broom," he stammered out, "and I really don't know the game that well, and there are supposed to be try-outs. Don't tell anyone, I'm supposed to keep it a secret."

Daphne looked at him like he was crazy.

"Everyone already knows all about it! It's not a secret at all! Tracey heard from Millicent who was… anyway, the rumor is that Flitwick sent out a letter requesting a broom for you. Someone saw the address on the letter he sent from the Owlery-"

 _I need to check on Hedwig._

"-and since first years can't bring their own brooms – and there's no way you can be a seeker on the _school_ brooms – I imagine that he'll be the owner and he'll loan it to you for certain occasions."

Harry thought for a moment. "Like Quidditch games?"

"And practices." She nodded. She still seemed really excited.

Flitwick had indeed ordered a broom for his personal pleasure. A Nimbus 2000, which he allowed Harry to use. He had explained it all with a wink, eyes full of mischief.

Daphne had been very pleased that she was right about Flitwick's plan when Harry told her later.

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Of course, it was only natural that he would eventually run into a problem.

He was practicing his _flippendo_ spell in the classroom he had claimed for practice. It was a knockback jinx he had read was a precursor to spells like Depulso. He was now certain he had meandered down the wrong type of banishing charm, as these wouldn't help him get rid of Peeves at all. He was pushing small objects around and knocking over desks with it when Daphne came in, wringing her hands.

 _A nervous habit._

He frowned.

Tracey was walking behind her, which was somewhat odd. Tracey rarely joined them here. Sometimes she did, but it was the exception more than the rule. She was also quiet and not meeting his eyes, and that _really_ set off his warning flags.

He frowned deeper.

"What happened?" He asked. He could feel their nervousness. It was making him nervous, which made him want his cupboard.

He focused.

"I made a mistake," Daphne began, stepping forward slightly. "So, earlier this morning Tracey and I were talking to Millicent. We were talking about you being the youngest seeker to play here for such a long time and Malfoy… and Gregory and Vincent, that is, Goyle and Crabbe-"

 _She is being very meandering._

"Anyway, Malfoy wanted to challenge you to a wizard's duel. He was fairly insulting and I, ah… I accepted. I offered to be your second, though, - of course Crabbe is Malfoys and, I'm really sorry." She seemed to be pleading with him while simultaneously apologizing.

"What did he say that was insulting?" The question seemed to catch her off-guard. "Was it about your family again?" He remembered something like that on the train.

She nodded. Harry never had a family for anyone to insult. Not really. But he imagined that if he did, he might react similarly.

"What do you want me to do?" He was confused. She took his words as acceptance of something though and smiled slightly, while Tracey stopped shifting her weight back and forth, from foot to foot.

"The duel is tonight, in the trophy room at midnight. Do you want to practice or-" She seemed excited. He knew what a duel was, but she was taking it awfully seriously.

"-Will you bring him here now?" He asked her. She looked shocked. He had never interrupted her before, he realized. She already felt bad about accepting the duel on his behalf and was worried that he was mad at her.

"Sorry. I'm not mad or anything, I just want to talk." She accepted that and looked relieved.

[He's really hard to read sometimes.]

Daphne's thought was almost audible.

Harry didn't think that was true, but he didn't say anything as she left, Tracey trailing behind her. He hit the desk next to him with a _flippendo_ , more forcefully than he had before. The desk rocked off the ground slightly and was mildly deformed by the blow. Harry sighed and repaired it with another gesture – it took a few waves. He then came back to the basic stunner. The pale bolt of light was practically pink, nowhere near the deep red of the more powerful _stupefy_. And he had practiced the disarming spell, but he never used it against anything that could be disarmed. He wasn't sure what would work, and he didn't know what Draco knew. He also knew that Daphne seemed to want him to do this, so what could he say? Should he say no?

Malfoy and his morons walked in a few minutes later, followed closely by the two Slytherin girls. It made Harry wonder, not for the first time, where the Slytherin common room was.

"Well Potter, you wanted to speak to me?" Draco drawled imperiously. He still had that smirk. Harry found himself wanting to duel the boy.

[Filch…Expel…Trophy…Potter…Duel]

A lot of that was unhelpful. There was jealousy too, and the feeling of being snubbed. The handshake and Quidditch were the likely source for these feelings. Harry thought for a moment.

"You're trying to trick me," Harry murmured. He felt Daphne's confusion and Tracey made a noise like a mouse being stepped on.

Draco just looked stunned.

"You don't intend to meet me tonight. You're trying to get me expelled." Daphne's clear shock told him she hadn't considered that angle.

Draco scowled. "You think I'm afraid of you?" He denied fiercely. "You wish, Potter."

"That's not what I said." He turned his back to Draco and rubbed his jaw in thought. Stepping away. He could almost hear Draco fuming behind him.

Just when Draco began to say something, Harry spoke again. "Why don't we duel now then?"

Harry turned around. He saw the look in Draco's eye and didn't need to use his talents to see that he had him trapped.

"Fine. Where?" Draco's responses were stiff now. He didn't actually expect to have to duel.

"Here," Harry murmured. "Stand there, opposite me."

Draco sneered, "I know how to duel, Potter."

But he went and stood opposite him all the same, Crabbe and Goyle off to the side. Daphne was now watching on in interest, but Harry needed to focus. It took him surprisingly little time to clear his mind.

"Do you mind if Tracey counts us off?"

Draco shook his head and Harry turned to the girl in question. "Do you mind at all?" She shook her head as well and stood to Harry's right and Draco's Left.

"Bow first!" The excited girl all but squeaked. Harry bowed to Draco and Draco gave a short wobble which could technically be called a bow.

"Three!"

[ _Serpensortia_ first, then I'll hex him while he's distracted.]

Harry didn't know what _Serpensortia_ did. Not for certain. He was, however, willing to bet that it had something to do with snakes. A snake wouldn't threaten him… or would it? Were summoned snakes different? He made a back-up plan just to be safe. It might cause him to be bitten as _if_ by a snake, though.

"Two!" It was hardly words which left Tracey's mouth. She was bouncing.

A biting spell was unlikely to have such a particular incantation, so he made a plan to deal with a snake should it obey him, and one should it not. He would disarm Malfoy at the same time Malfoy cast his spell. He would have time. The snake would need to close at least some distance. If it obeyed him, the duel would be over. If it didn't, he would use the knockback hex and the duel would be over…That was assuming his disarming spell worked.

"One!" That wasn't even a number. Just a squealing noise.

 _She's more likely to need a trip to the hospital wing than either of us._

Harry cleared his mind. He was ready.

"Go!" That was more audible, but still.

" _Serpensortia!_ "

" _Expelliarmus."_

A snake flew from Draco's wand and landed between them. Harry's spell struck true and he caught Malfoy's wand… or rather he tried. As he turned his attention to the snake he fumbled the wand. He was sure it looked ridiculous.

" _Ssstop,_ " he told the snake, hoping nobody noticed his error. The snake froze, along with everybody else.

Harry bent down and picked up the wand. "I believe I win. Now go away."

Draco and his lackeys looked downright petrified. Harry tossed the wand towards the door and gestured at it with his own. They didn't move until Harry decided to give the snake directions to the first floor where it could use a window to escape. They gave terrified shrieks and stumbled over themselves to escape.

Daphne looked at him in awe and shock. Tracey was little better.

"What?" He asked. "That was what you wanted, right?" Why was he always confused?

"You can talk to snakes!"

"You're a parselmouth?"

He nodded. "I've always been able to talk to snakes."

Daphne looked flabbergasted, and again Tracey could only mirror her friend's reaction.

He shrugged. "It's not a big deal." It was his least useful magical talent. How often could speaking to snakes be useful? Today, for the first time in his life, brought that count up to a total of once.

"It's a huge deal!" Tracey told him, eyes still wide. "How are you not in Slytherin? Didn't you know about You-Know-Who? He could do it too."

He just nodded with a shrug. "You're both still acting odd."

" _We're_ acting odd?"

He nodded again. "Ever since you came in here earlier. I thought you'd be back to your usual selves after the duel was over."

He grabbed his things and departed for the Ravenclaw common room. He had his first Quidditch practice tonight. He figured they would be back to their usual selves by tomorrow.

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"Did you hear?"

"A snake? Really?"

"…Slytherin…"

"You-Know-Who was one too, don't you know."

"What did it sound like?"

"I don't believe it."

They were all always so loud. Daphne and Tracey continued to _act_ normal around him for a few days, but it was just an act. Still, they soon fell back into their usual rhythm once they realized this revelation hadn't actually changed anything. Of course, Hermione no longer attempted to lecture him. It seemed she frowned upon his duel and this was his punishment. Harry enjoyed this punishment so much. In fact, it might have been his favorite ever.

On the flip side, Slytherin students now leered at him, his Ravenclaw house mates gave him a much wider berth, and there was some hostility and awkward silence in the dormitory. He ignored it, of course. Silences made other people uncomfortable faster than they ever would for him. He simply made sure to maintain his polite attitude at all time. No point feeding the flames. They were only nervous of him and, so far, hadn't actually done anything against him.

Gryffindor was a different matter, as what seemed to be the entire house had taken to glowering at him during meals. He ignored them too. It was just a magical talent, he reminded himself. Neville was, thankfully, the exception there. After Harry gave him back his Remembrall, visiting him in the hospital wing, he had elected to occasionally join Harry in the library and ask his help with spells. Harry had agreed, in return for Neville's assistance with Herbology, where the other boy seemed to shine. Harry's own talents in the subject were… less substantial.

He found his first Quidditch game fast approaching and, as the days were ticked off the calendar, he found himself genuinely nervous. His first practice was, much to his disappointment, spent entirely grounded. The captain had gone over plays with the team, then took each group aside and gave them individual plays to work on. It took the entire practice. Harry had been confused about why Flitwick hadn't left the broom out for him, but it made a great deal more sense now.

It took several practices before they actually got up in the air. Even if it was only running drills, the intensity of the experience was wonderful. Although, his least favorite drill had to be juggling two balls the size of a snitch while flying through several obstacles. It was fairly difficult, but Harry quickly grew to understand the importance of it.

On the academic side of things, they were finally making things fly in Charms. The class had been dying to try it out ever since professor Flitwick made Neville's toad whiz around the classroom. A fascinating display for the students, but likely a terrifying one for the evasive amphibian. Curiously, Harry had heard that it was once discovered inside the Ravenclaw common room. Whenever he saw it bouncing through the corridors he eyed it suspiciously. Neville later told him that he rarely knew where it was, and just hoped to find it again before he went home.

In Charms, Harry had been paired up with Lisa Turpin, a mousy girl from his house that he might not have talked to otherwise. She had avoided him since the news about his talent spread, but she quickly warmed up to him when he was polite and well-meaning for their project.

"At least you weren't paired with Hermione," he told her, earning a muffled giggle that let Harry knew that he had done something right.

After a few quick pointers, they both managed the levitation spell quickly enough to earn points for their house. He had accomplished it immediately this time, now that he had practiced, but she was close behind. When they were awarded the points she smiled at him, and Harry attempted to return it convincingly.

Hermione and Daphne managed it too, but Hermione seemed to be driving Ron spare. Not that she was wrong about her corrections.

 _It's in her tone._

Harry had, however, seen Ron drive her to tears. While she _was_ rude, and more than a little bossy, she didn't deserve that. She was just… lonely. Harry could, despite his misgivings, empathize with that.

Harry had been rather surprised when a prefect came to collect him after Transfiguration. Evidently, Dumbledore had asked to speak with him. He was concerned, and couldn't for the life of him figure out what it might be about. Was it the duel? Would he be sent away? He hoped not.

He apologized to his friends and followed Percy Weasley to a gargoyle. Percy gave it a password, chocolate frog, and it leapt to the side with surprising alacrity for something made of stone. Harry entered and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Harry."

He entered, noting how the door swung shut behind him of its own volition, and saw his magical guardian sitting behind the desk. The man was wearing bright orange robes which Harry was a little concerned might blind him if he stared too long.

"Hello sir."

"Have a seat, if you would?" He gestured to the chair opposite him, and it slid forward to accommodate Harry.

"I'm sure you are wondering why I invited you here." Harry nodded. "I recently heard that you demonstrated one of your unique abilities, particularly, your affinity for Slytherin's familiar."

Harry blinked. He wondered if the professor could say that five times fast. Then he realised the Headmaster seemed to be waiting for him to answer.

"Draco Malfoy summoned a snake, he used a spell, _Serpensortia_ , and I didn't want to be bitten."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am glad you are not showing off your talents for the wrong reasons." He seemed proud, and Harry flushed slightly.

"However," Dumbledore stood. Harry braced himself for his expulsion. "It is not the only reason I brought you here. Tonight is, of course, Halloween. It is the anniversary of a dreadful night ten years ago. The night you received your scar."

"The night my parents died."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. "I was concerned that the night might have some form of impact on your wellbeing. After all, this same night I also delivered you to your aunt and uncle. I was concerned you might have some… past history with them, because of that fact."

Harry shook his head and Dumbledore gave Harry a measured look. There was a beat of silence.

"I am told you asked Professor Flitwick about your mother, He always _was_ proud of her as a student."

Harry remembered the Professor telling him a short story about his mother accidently changing the color of his father's hair in their first year, after he had stopped by and asked.

"He felt as though what he gave you was too little, and so provided me with this." He held up a silver vial and gestured to a cabinet. A silvery gleaming bowl emerged and floated over, settling down between them on the desk.

"These are your Professor's memories of your parents' wedding day. He attended as a guest, close as he was to your mother, even after she finished her education. This is a pensieve, a device for viewing the memories of another."

Harry frowned as Professor Dumbledore poured the memories into the bowl. That hadn't come up in his studies about memories.

"I invite you to view it Harry, as many times as you so desire. Then, when you are finished, I would like for you to rejoin your friends in the Great Hall for the Halloween feast." Dumbledore stood and departed the room. Leaving Harry alone with the memories, and his thoughts.

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When Harry left the room, what felt like hours later, he decided to write Professor Flitwick a thank you, at the very least. He knew why Dumbledore had left, he appreciated the gesture of privacy, though it would have been nice to know how the pensieve had worked. He wiped away his tears and cleared his mind. He had to be ready to rejoin the other students.

Harry recoiled as he foulest odour he had ever smelled drifted around the corner, accompanied by heavy, thudding footsteps that wouldn't have been strange from an elephant. He moved forward, still grimacing, and just spotted a lumbering figure press their bulk through a bathroom doorway. Then, he heard a scream.

He charged towards it, berating himself as he did. It was hard to miss the creature when he rounded the doorway. Twelve feet tall, with ears too large for its ridiculously proportioned head, and a club taller than he was. It knocked the sinks off the walls with a single swing, throwing porcelain shards everywhere as it stomped slowly towards a terrified Hermione Granger.

It turned at his intrusion, staring at him dumbly for agonizingly slow couple of seconds. That was how long it took to make up its tiny mind, shifting awkwardly to move towards him instead, already beginning to raise its club. As it did, Harry made his move.

" _Flippendo!"_ He was more frantic and desperate than he had ever been when casting the spell before.

It struck the top of the club and rocked it into the troll's face using its own hand as a pivot, sufficient enough to deform the club where it struck. The troll collapsed to its knees, shaking its head with angry, confused noises.

 _I hope its concussed._

"Come on!" He shouted to Hermione, offering his hand. She leapt up and took it without hesitating, and they turned to run before the beast recovered. It made to stand up and placed a hand on the ground as Hermione ran by. She stumbled from the shock, nearly losing her footing on the slick floor, forcing Harry to steady her as they escaped the room. She whimpered, and he looked down at her leg. It was bleeding.

 _The porcelain!_

" _Episkey,"_ he incanted, flicking his wand in a well-practised motion. The wound sealed up even as they continued to run.

His eyes darted about frantically once they were outside, and the troll's enraged roar helped him make up his mind.

He was sprinting down the corridor, Hermione in tow, when Professor McGonagall burst around the corner. She waved her wand and Harry felt himself fly towards her to a surprisingly soft landing.

She advanced on the troll with Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell behind her. Quirrell was clutching his heart and seemed closer to collapse than even Hermione. Snape, on the other hand, already had a silvery spell on the tip of his outstretched wand. It stuck the beast right in the centre of its putrid bulk, and didn't get back up.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall hissed, serious agitation in her voice when she turned on them. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories with the other students?"

Snape gave Harry a measured, piercing look.

"I was just coming down from the Headmaster's office," Harry began. "He summoned me earlier."

"That was hours ago," Professor McGonagall snapped.

"I was in there for a long time," he explained, feeling oddly calm as he spoke. Angry adults were something he had _plenty_ of experience with. "I was coming back to join the feast when I smelled it. I approached it when I heard Hermione scream and I cast a spell."

"And which spell," Snape interjected softly, "might I ask, did you believe was suitable for taking down a fully-grown mountain troll?"

"I used the knockback jinxon its club. It was stunned for a moment, the club hit its face. I grabbed Hermione and we tried to run. And well… you arrived."

Professor McGonagall gave him a shrewd look, before shifting her attention.

"And you, Ms. Granger? You never attended my class earlier today."

"I well…" She glanced at Harry, so he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging look.

"I was upset by something Ronald Weasley said after charms. I was in the bathroom all day," she glanced down, cheeks flushed, "hiding."

Professor McGonagall's face couldn't have softened faster.

"Fifty points to Ravenclaw is in order, I believe." Professor McGonagall decided, eyeing Hermione's leg. "Ms. Granger, why don't you come with me to the Hospital Wing? We'll let madam Pomfrey to have a look at that."

"Harry healed me," the girl interjected.

"With what spell?" Professor Snape asked, snappishly.

Hermione paused for a moment. "The incantation was _episky_ , I think."

Harry looked down. Now _he_ was the one with red cheeks.

"Well. you should still see madam Pomfrey all the same. Five more points to Ravenclaw for a well-cast spell."

Professor McGonagall took Hermione's shoulder and gently led her away. Hermione gave him one last look before she departed.

[Thank you…]

After that, Harry and Hermione became friends, of a sort. There are some things you can't share with another person without ending up closer for the experience, and it turned out that a twelve-foot mountain troll just so happened to be one of them.

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Quidditch season had begun as November brought the first lazy flakes of snow to the highland landscape. Harry felt incredibly anxious for his first game against Hufflepuff. Cedric Diggory was supposed to be a good seeker. He breathed steadily, not knowing which was worse - people telling him he'd be brilliant, or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress. He kind of hoped somebody _would_ do that. At least he would feel a little safer.

Of course, there were new challenges for him socially as well. Daphne could not stand Hermione, so he was now forced into a weird juggling act his friends. Just the knowledge that Hermione was now his friend drove Daphne to feel several weird emotions Harry couldn't untangle. However, when his relationship with her had not changed in the slightest, she soon relaxed and accepted Hermione in her own way. That was to say, _distantly._

Harry studied with Hermione and practiced magic with Daphne and so far, keeping the separate like that appeared to be working. Neville on the other hand, couldn't seem to find his voice whenever Tracey was around, mostly stammering. So, Harry took some measures to keep _them_ separate as well, if only for Neville's sake. Still, he hoped Neville would get over whatever it was soon.

A part of him hoped it had nothing to do with his parseltongue abilities. The rest of Gryffindor now seemed to avoid him like the plague.

Harry never expected to have the problem of too many friends. It made him wish for the cupboard, but tinged with an unfamiliar warmth inside his chest.

 _They're all so strange._

Hermione tended to lecture still, and be more than a little bossy, but nowadays a sharp reminding look was enough to make her realize what she was doing and try to relax. She had also lent him _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which turned out to be more interesting than he had originally thought.

The day before Harry's first Quidditch match, Daphne decided she wanted to walk around outside with Tracey and himself. Naturally, he refused because he wanted to practice magic, so, they had collectively decided to walk around outside in the freezing courtyard during break _anyway_. Harry wondered what else Daphne would drag him into.

Harry was forced to conjure a blue flame so that they could pass it between one another to stay warm. Tracey's story about the prefect's bathroom was abruptly cut short when Professor Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping. Professor Snape hadn't seen him doing anything wrong, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell Harry off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and Harry showed him, not foreseeing how a reprimand could come from this.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," the Professor snapped. "Give it to me; and that will be five points from Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter." Harry handed it over without complaint.

Later, Harry made his way down to the staffroom and knocked to retrieve the book. There was no answer, so he knocked again. Nothing. Perhaps Professor Snape had left the book inside? It was worth a try. When he pushed the door open enough to peer around though, he nearly gasped.

Professor Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Professor Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but Professor Snape had seen him.

"Potter!" Professor Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes to hide his leg.

Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back."

"Get out! Out!"

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When Harry told his friends what he had seen, Tracey, perennially attached to the Hogwarts rumor mill, had provided an answer.

"The third-floor corridor has a Cerberus behind it, a three-headed dog. They're supposed to protect things, but I don't know what. There's supposed to be several in Gringotts for defense. I've heard they also have dragons down there, but they're way harder to train. At least, I think so. A Cerberus is just a dog and they're easy to train, right? Like, man's best friend, and stuff. My family even had this dog- "

Daphne pinched her, and Tracey scowled in faux irritation as Daphne giggled. Tracey continued, actually sticking to the topic at hand this time.

"I think that's why we're not supposed to use the corridor. The Headmaster told us we would die if we did, and Cerberus are supposed to be _really_ dangerous. Category XXXX dangerous."

Harry rubbed his jaw where he always did.

"Do you think Professor Snape tried to steal what it was guarding?" Daphne asked.

Tracey shrugged, practically skipping away, likely to spread Professor Snape's leg into that self-same rumor factory.

"What do you think it's guarding?" Daphne asked Harry instead.

"When Dumbledore took me to Diagon Alley, he removed something from a vault at Gringotts. That same vault somebody tried to break into."

"Do you frequently go shopping with the greatest wizard in the world?"

Harry shrugged and proceeded to his and Daphne's usual room to practice some transfiguration.

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"No, he wouldn't, Hermione was adamant. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"I dunno Hermione, Snape isn't exactly saintly. My grandmother told me he used to be a Death Eater, you know? One of You-Know-Who's soldiers. She told me he was a silver masked one too. Was, until the day You-Know-Who died." Neville had always been nervous about Professor Snape. Snape seemed out to get Neville as much as he was Harry.

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Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with questions. Anthony snored loudly and harry attempted the _muffliato_ spell, but he hadn't really gotten it down yet. He couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind, but that failed too. He was too anxious about his game tomorrow. Lisa had been very encouraging after Charms, and told him the whole house was counting on him. One of the older Ravenclaws had evidently found his father's records, and they were all expecting him to live up to it.

No pressure, or anything.

The next morning dawned very bright and chilly. Harry felt himself relax into the cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match had been fairly exciting. Gryffindor won, but Slytherin caught the snitch. The flying foxes of Gryffindor, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell, were tremendously coordinated and, despite the attempts by Slytherin to knock them out of the sky, had been practically unstoppable.

"You've got to eat some breakfast," urged Lisa, rapidly becoming Harry's closest friend in Ravenclaw. He never expected to have so many friends in all his life.

"I don't want anything," he insisted unconvincingly.

He didn't need to eat. The elation from those around him sustained him as much as any meal could.

"Just a bit of toast," Mandy Brocklehurst tried from the far side of Lisa.

"I'm not hungry." Harry felt terrible so he reached out to as many minds around him as possible. He had hardly slept and even with the cold damp air comforting him, he wanted to collapse already.

"Harry, you need your strength," said Michael Corner. "Seekers are always the ones who usually get targeted by the other team. You know statistically speaking-"

"Thanks, Michael," said Harry quickly.

He didn't feel much better by the time stepped out onto the field with his _–_ with _Flitwick's_ broom, he corrected internally – in hand.

That was until he felt the Quidditch Pitch. It was _rich_ in emotion. When he walked into range of it for his talent, it felt like a depth charge went off next to him. The emotions of the crowd swelling and falling and in time hsi heart beat in time with their roars.

He smiled, the elation and happiness permeating all of his body. Warmth wormed into his fingers and toes as he fed off the screaming student body.

It was _lush_. A banquet fit for a king and he had it all for himself.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her own broom in her hand. That made Harry feel better, she literally had hawk-like eyes.

He saw a Potter for President banner which made him do a double take. He missed what Madam Hooch had said. He hoped it wasn't too important.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry mounted his broom to take off.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle - and Harry woke up in a bed in the Hospital wing.

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"I keep telling the faculty that it's too dangerous for children to play such a sport," Madam Pomfrey muttered, bustling about. "They keep getting younger. Drink these, there's a good lad."

Harry gagged on the potions.

"What happened I don't…"

"Don't remember? You cracked your skull open after you caught the snitch. Some memory loss is to be expected."

"I caught it?"

She gave him a nod and a concerned look. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Harry wanted to say that the last thing he remembered was her asking him what the last thing he remembered was, but felt it would be inappropriate.

"I remember Madam Hooch blowing her whistle, then kicking off the ground."

She nodded her head in understanding. "You caught the snitch and won the game for Ravenclaw, but something seemed to happen to your broom. I thought it looked confounded and Professor Flitwick took it to his study to examine."

"I won?"

"Yes, I'm assured that when your broom was behaving you flew quite well."

Harry didn't believe it.

"I did?"

Madam Pomfrey huffed at him.

"Drink these, alright? You'll be out in a few more days, but you need to sleep."

Harry drank the much smoother tasting draught, and was asleep in moments.

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His friends were all concerned for him when he was let out. But when he said he didn't remember the match at all, Daphne had giggled. She thought his frustration at not knowing how he did at his first game was hilarious. It was hardly his fault though, he was evidently good at something and had no way to know it.

Daphne's laughter caused Hermione to glower at her, starting her off on a tirade of reprimands for 'insensitivity'. Harry thought they were going to come to spells at one point.

Tracey spent time catching him up on gossip and Neville had kept track of his homework for him, which made Harry's chest feel warm.

He did get to see the memory of his fall through Hermione's eyes. It was a nasty one. He found himself wishing, less jokingly, that someone really _had_ ran around beneath him with a mattress.

"He wasn't blinking, and his lips were moving. He was casting a spell. I know it. I've read all about them."

" _I've read all about spells!_ " Daphne mocked in a poor imitation, if not an inaccurate one.

Hermione was removed by the Matron when she started to shout, and Harry saw victory in Daphne's he caught a trace of some anxiety in Neville's thoughts.

"Is something wrong, Neville?" The boy nearly jumped.

"Well… the other Gryffindors think… it's because of your-" He was stammering worse than usual.

Daphne seemed to take pity on him. "It's because you're a parselmouth, like You-Know-Who." She looked at Neville, gaping at her. "What?" She sighed. "You know the Weasley family? The clan of redheads, with the tall boys? The twins? Them. They're a Gryffindor dynasty, they've been in Gryffindor, every single one of them, for the last century. Now here you are, speaking to snakes and hanging around with Slytherins."

"I though the houses didn't matter so much."

"They don't to me, but it's likely Ron Weasley thinks you're evil, or some sort of rubbish. Your victory over Malfoy has the other first years terrified of you. I bet Weasley told you that you shouldn't hang around Harry, right?" She directed the last part at Neville.

Neville gulped and nodded.

"It was hardly a fight, though." Harry protested. "And it's not like I did anything. How often is talking to snakes useful anyway?"

Tracey just shook her head and Daphne threw her arms up in exasperation.

"Wait, how does everyone know about the duel…" He looked right at Tracey who turned pink. Hermione chose that moment to let herself back in, barely wincing at Madam Pomfrey's withering look.

"You really did have a duel with Malfoy? That was true? How could you be so irresponsible?"

He blanched.

"Well, he did win it." Daphne returned politely. He would never understand how she could be polite like that even to someone she disliked.

Hermione looked speechless, but before she could rant Madam Pomfrey swept back in and kicked them _all_ out.

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Christmas was coming, and Harry was excited about that for the first time in recent memory. He had probably overtaxed Hedwig terribly to ensure that he could get his friends the right things. A book for Hermione, because how could it be anything else? An introduction to runes which, even though they couldn't take the class for several more years, were 'ever so important.'

A beginning enchanter's set for Daphne, so she could practice the charms. She told him while they practiced defense spells with one another that she wanted to enchant things for a living, but Harry suspected she just wanted to call herself an enchantress. It only contained a few specially prepared items to enchant; miniature quidditch balls, a stuffed teddy bear to animate, and a combination lock, amongst other things.

He bought an owl for Tracey, after she stated her desire for one several times. They were, he was told, 'just too cute.' He bought some sort of seed for Neville. Some cactus whose name he couldn't pronounce that had a lot of 'm's in it. He had decided, quite last minute, to send a box of chocolate frogs to Lisa.

The lake froze solid at some point, and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The Great Hall looked spectacular. There was wreaths of holly and mistletoe hung around the walls. Harry had heard of some prank the Weasley twins pulled involving mistletoe, and endeavored to avoid it. He stepped the long way around every mistletoe branch he could see.

Hagrid had worked hard on it the decorations, and was more than happy to show Harry about. It was almost a tour, except it was one room and he could see everything. Still, he listened to Hagrid explain how the trees grew so tall using some fertilizer Professor Sprout put together every year.

Harry was sufficiently awed, until Hermione approached him insistently.

"How many days ya' got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked him.

"Just one," Hermione answered in his stead. "Harry, we should go to the library, don't you think."

Hermione had decided to monopolize Harry's time in the library, much to Daphne's anger. She had also taken it upon herself to find whatever was being guarded on the third floor by scouring the bookshelves. Both he and Neville had attempted to convince her that there was no way she could possibly narrow down the object based on his description of Dumbledore's vault, but she was relentless and had a memory second to none.

 _If she committed that to actual spells, there's no way I would be first in the class._

But she didn't, so, in the end of term exams he'd managed to snag first in their year, Daphne taking second. It was hardly surprising, considering the hours they spent practicing or studying.

However, he reluctantly agreed all the same, struggling to tear his eyes away from Professor McGonagall forming coils of silver light, before attaching them to the trees, next to Professor Flitwick's brilliant gold bubbles he was transforming into baubles.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the Hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"We're trying to find out what the dog on the third floor is guarding." Hermione answered meticulously before Harry could stop her.

"You what?" Hagrid started. "What Fluffy is guarding is between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."

"Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione asked

"Fluffy?" Harry asked.

"I shouldn't 'ave told you that. I should not 'ave told you tha'." Harry was worried for the moment that Hagrid might panic. He had no idea how to help the enormous man if he began to have a heart attack.

Hermione gave him an excited look. They turned and marched quickly in the direction of the library.

"Come back 'ere!" Hagrid shouted "Wait!" But they were already gone.

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Despite his and Hermione's best attempts, they found nothing about a Nicolas Flamel in the library while studying. It was later, when he was practicing a color changing charm and a sticking charm with Daphne, that he learned the answer.

"Nicolas Flamel?" She asked.

"You don't know ether?"

He met her eyes and felt a small bit of anger there.

 _Indignation._

He said stealing the knowledge from her thoughts.

Before he could apologize she answered him.

"Of course I know who Nicolas Flamel is! He's the greatest alchemist of all time. He invented the sorcerer's stone. It can turn metal into gold and create elixir of life. It makes you immortal. He's most of a millennium old, his wife too."

Harry thought about that.

"Well, I suppose that answers the question of what Fluffy is guarding."

"Fluffy?" She asked with a giggle.

He eagerly reached out to her mind, to feel her amusement for himself. It felt bright and he almost leaned into it.

He sighed. "Hagrid told us that the Cerberus' name is fluffy."

She laughed louder at that. He turned her hair pink in faux retaliation. She stuck his wand hand to a desk and left for dinner, almost roaring with laughter.

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" _Whatever happens, they say afterwards, it must have been fate. People are always a little confused about this, as they are in the case of miracles. When someone is saved from certain death by a strange concatenation of circumstances, they say that's a miracle. But of course, if someone is killed by a freak chain of events - the oil spilled just there, the safety fence broken just there - that must also be a miracle. Just because it's not nice doesn't mean it's not miraculous." – Terry Pratchett_

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 **God damn writing Tracey is fun. She's so bubbly.**

 **I love her.**

 **A lot of Hermione in the chapter and a lot less Daphne than I wanted but I didn't want to force their personalities into whatever I needed and I had a plot to maintain.**

 **Next time is Christmas and the second half of the year.**

 **Give me specific criticisms and let me know if I made any major mistakes.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **-WG**

 **Edited: 4/5/18**


	3. The Other Initiate

**Not much to say except I did a little editing on the first two chapters. A few spelling mistakes caught my eye and I wanted to change somethings. Nothing major.**

 **I plan to reach the end of the year in this chapter, however, I won't publish chapters longer than 15K, which seems excessive.**

 **Please don't think Harry is a coward. Being terrified of social interactions is a common symptom in prisoners who experience long term isolation.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **Using the Ravenclaw people we don't know much of anything about I had to put together some basic dossiers on their personalities and families, I want to keep them separate unique characters so let me know how I did.**

 **I think that is everything, let's make some Christmas.**

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" _He was the sort of person who stood on mountaintops during thunderstorms in wet copper armor shouting 'All the Gods are bastards.'"-Terry Pratchett_

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When Harry told Hermione that he and Daphne had discovered what was being guarded under the Cerberus, she had been uncertain how to react. It certainly explained why none of the books she had examined yielded results. Nicolas Flamel had little business being in _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ nor _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_. Of course, not knowing anything at all about what was in Dumbledore's package had made her task herculean.

She had been convinced she would have been able to find it, if only she'd had access to the restricted section of the library. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books. These were the books containing powerful dark magics, never taught at Hogwarts. They were only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

 _Or just the Dark Arts._

He had once spotted a copy of _The Mind, The Maze_ within and he, better than most, understood the need for legilimency to be controlled knowledge. Of course, he was also secretly proud of his talent and glad for its restricted nature at the school.

When the holidays actually began, Harry found himself saying goodbye to Tracey and Daphne. They would be spending their holidays together at the Davis' household. Daphne would also spend time with her sister at her home, before coming back at the start of next term. She was thrilled about that, even if she didn't say so.

She didn't need to when he could feel it coming off of her in waves.

He had been picking up Hermione's homesickness, too, as well as an anxiety to see her parents, for days now. She desperately wanted to suitably impress them with her new magical knowledge. It seemed to stem from a subconscious guilt that she had somehow de-railed her parents' lives with her magical nature, unless he was misreading her. He waved goodbye to both her and Neville as they boarded the express, finally leaving him all alone.

He was relieved he no longer need to put on an act, but he also knew he would miss them sorely. It was an unfamiliar feeling which he only recognized from his experiences in the minds of others. Especially Hermione and Daphne, who had both come to Hogwarts with people _to_ miss.

From Harry's dorm, only Michael Corner had stayed at Hogwarts and he, like most other Ravenclaws, treated him with suspicion. Lisa Turpin seemed to have tried to defend him, but right now she was back home for the Holidays with her muggle parents. Su and Mandy had also returned home, making Michael and Harry the only first-year Ravenclaws left in the castle.

On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. He was more than a little surprised, and found he couldn't barely speak.

"Merry Christmas, Michael," he managed, tone strictly polite to hide the strange sensation bubbling up in his chest.

The other boy returned his sentiment warily, like he was worried Harry would suddenly start summoning snakes if he didn't.

Harry received nothing from his Aunt and Uncle, which at least met his expectations. Hermione had gifted him a box of chocolate frogs. He enjoyed chocolate, so he opened one, catching the evasive thing with a seeker's reaction and taking its head off. A kindly looking old man stared back at him from the card, almost seeming to taunt him with the bold label 'Nicolas Flamel'.

Harry glared at it.

Neville, bless his soul, had gotten him a broom maintenance kit. Harry discovered that he quite enjoyed the smell of the broom polish. There were also some tools to help keep the straw together and help maintain some of the charms. All in all, fairly thoughtful.

Tracey got him a him a box of owl treats for Hedwig. He had started to suspect that Tracey was closer to his owl than she was to him. She always cooed softly at the bird and stroked her feathers whenever the chance arose. Hopefully, with one of her own, she would stop that.

Daphne had gotten him an Occlumency book. A note from her read that he would have to return it since it was part of her father's library, but he was pleased all the same. Occlumency wasn't his forte within the mind arts, but he was hardly going to tell her how often he touched her thoughts.

He placed _Occlumency, A Comprehensive Guide_ in his trunk. He would study it later in more depth. He had currently reached a wall with his legilimency. He wanted to push deeper and perform the probing techniques that were discussed in _The Mind, The Maze,_ but he wasn't certain who he should, or _could_ , practice on. He supposed there were some moral quandaries to have as well.

He smiled at his gifts. It felt _good_ , and he couldn't have dropped his grin if he wanted to.

He glanced down at the last package from the now diminished pile. He picked it up and held it in his hands. It was light, but fairly large. He opened it up.

Something fluid and silvery gray pooled on the floor like mercury. It lay in gleaming folds and, when he picked it up, it felt like water under his fingers. He picked it up to look closer, only to blink as his hand vanished. He almost gasped and dropped it, but he could still feel his fingers and the cloth against it. He was _invisible_. A note fluttered out of one of the shimmering folds of magical fabric.

Upon it, written in narrow, cursive writing he had never seen before, were the words:

 **Your father left this in my possession before he died.**

 **It is time it was returned to you.**

 **Use it well.**

 **A Very Merry Christmas to you.**

 **-Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**

 _He should really use his initials._

It belonged to his father, and that made his caresses of the cloak that much more reverential.

After just holding this small piece of his legacy in his hands for a while, he folded it neatly and placed it in the bottom of his trunk. He didn't want to share it with anyone, not even with his friends, at least not yet. It felt… intimate.

Harry decided to make his way to the Great Hall. He turned a corner on the second floor and stepped onto a floating staircase. He heard a croak and looked to his left. There, riding a staircase upwards away from Harry, was Trevor. He stared at Neville's familiar until it was out of sight.

He managed to spot the Weasley twins dragging their prefect and first year brothers into the Great Hall. Percy Weasley had his arms trapped inside of sweater and, with no arms free, was at the mercy of the twins. He had Harry's sympathies. Following them in, Harry was met with an incredible sight.

Boats of gravy floated next to mountains of potatoes and hams. There must have been hundreds of roast turkeys and oceans of cranberry sauce across a single table. It made the Dursley's best holidays party look like a joke. There were stacks of wizard crackers everywhere there wasn't food, and every few moments one would explode with enough riotous fanfare to make Seamus Finnigan jealous. The twins were setting one off every time their older brother tried to speak, sending puffs of green and red smoke into the prefect's face and leaving white mice or doves skittering away.

 _Slightly unsanitary, but undeniably merry._

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him all the way from the high table. Harry reached out with his mind and sent all the gratitude he could muster for his father's cloak towards the old man's twinkling eyes. The old man nodded at him, sending a much more delicate and precise reply compared to Harry's clumsy attempt, an image of a young redheaded witch gazing up at a massive Christmas tree in wonder.

 _Mom…_

It was pretty much the best Christmas of all time.

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Harry stayed up that night running the cloak through his fingers again.

 _Use it well._

All of this wonderful castle was now his to explore. He could go wherever he pleased, but where? What should he see? The Great Hall again? The library? The restricted section! He'd had his eye on _Breaking and Entering the Mind_ since he'd first seen it on one of those tantalizing shelves.

He made his way down to the stacks and found the library pitch-black and very eerie.

 _Let there be light._

He thought.

" _Lumos_."

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. He stepped carefully over the cordon and walked to where he knew the book he wanted sat, just waiting for his perusal. Some he hadn't spotted before looked interesting. _Rituals for the Desperate_ and _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ had gold and silver letters which seemed to coax him in. They both looked like they had been sitting in some dank, chamber somewhere for a long time before they were brought here. He eyed them both before moving deeper into the shelves. There it was, just past _Tricks to Bewilder a Legilimens._ He took it softly, ignoring the whispers which seemed to come from a blood-stained _Curses to Terrify_.

He opened it.

 **An Introduction to Pain**

Not a particularly welcoming introduction section. Not at all what he wanted to do to his friends.

He took it anyway and departed the library, almost walking straight into Filch. He doubted that, had he collided with the caretaker, he would have remained undetected. He ducked past the man, almost gagging at the proximity and darted away. He ducked into a classroom once he thought he was far enough away and sighed in relief.

He attempted to clear his mind and relax, taking in his surroundings curiously. It was one of the unused classrooms. There were more than a few of those, since the magical population had declined since the founders' day. This room though, contained something special.

A wonderfully carved mirror with words etched across its arch that read: 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'.

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Harry picked unenthusiastically at his food the next morning, exhausted. He had sat in front of the mirror all night, and when he finally dragged himself away it was all he could think about. He had determined the message in the backwards lettering, although personally, he firmly believed that the lettering should be _mirrored_. He returned that evening to have another look, telling himself that he had to be certain about what he had seen. It was nothing but a convenient excuse, and he knew it. He simply longed to see it again.

He pulled off his cloak and moved to stand in front of its gilded surface.

"Back again, Harry?" He knew immediately he was caught, and he turned slowly. Professor Dumbledore was sitting on a desk pushed up against the wall. Harry must have walked directly past him and never noticed. He'd been too focused on the mirror.

"I didn't see you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore hummed. "Strange, how near-sighted being invisible can make you," Harry was relieved to see a smile on the old man's face.

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." His gaze shifted to Harry. "I expect you've realized by now what it does? It seems to have captured your interest even more than your new copy of _Breaking and Entering the Mind_."

Harry nodded, there was little point in lying. "You saw then?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Dumbledore informed him, typically mysterious. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" A disillusionment charm then. Harry had only read about them and had never even considered attempting it. It was supposed to be incredibly complex.

"It shows us 'not our face, but our heart's desire', Sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Not just our desires, which are often fleeting, it shows us our most desperate dreams. However, it provides us with neither truth, nor knowledge."

Harry disagreed immediately, and his face must have given his thoughts away because the headmaster raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Oh? Something you know, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "I didn't know I desired this, Sir."

Dumbledore considered that for a moment, before nodding. "Perhaps," he conceded gently, "I suppose, in that same vein, you would consider amortentia a useful tool for learning about oneself?" Upon seeing the boy's confusion, he elaborated. "A powerful love potion, Harry. One that produces obsession in those who drink it. It smells like only those scents which would touch us most deeply."

Harry tried to decipher what the headmaster meant, before nodding. "You could learn who you loved by smelling it, or at least how they smelled."

He wasn't sure if Dumbledore agreed. Which made him more than nervous. The silence seemed to stretch on before the wizened man spoke again.

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and be off to bed?"

Harry stood up, having forgotten how cold and hard the floor was. He extended a hand to help his magical guardian to his feet.

"Can I ask you something, Sir?"

"Obviously, you've just done so." Harry stared at him, and Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"Myself?" Dumbledore didn't so much as glance at the Mirror. "I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared again, unable to believe that the greatest wizard in the world desired, above all other things in his nearly bi-centennial life, socks.

"And you, Harry?"

Harry glanced back at the mirror. He saw himself standing there, holding his wand as his eyes glowed with power, much like Dumbledore's had back at Privet Drive. His wand was bright, and a powerful spell seemed anxious to escape. There was a blue light glowing just off the tip, wreathed in swirling wisps of white caught in the orbit of the glowing end. He was strong, and taller than Harry was now. An adult. He had a billowing cloak and fine, neat robes. He was regal and eldritch power seemed to pour from the man in the mirror. This man wasn't afraid of anything, certainly not other people, why should he be? _How_ could he possibly be? The man in the mirror could strip every thought, tear any memory, feel any emotion someone had ever had in an instant.

The man in the mirror was a great wizard, who never longed to be shut in a cupboard. He was happy, and not the slightest bit empty inside. This was the man Dumbledore had described, a man who could stare into the Mirror and see nothing but himself.

"A new set of robes, Sir."

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Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He understood the warnings Dumbledore had given him much more clearly. It was addictive, and that made it dangerous.

He found himself pouring over his books on mind magic, committing little time to practicing other spells. He even sent a few mind probes digging through the head of Ron Weasley. The boy had earned it by thinking Harry was so evil, even if Harry hadn't known about such thoughts until he had already invaded the boy's mind.

Ernie Macmillan, who had called Harry the next Dark Lord, earned the headaches Harry's attention brought him in a much more direct manner.

Daphne was coming back the day before their next term started, and Harry debated with himself on sharing his revelations with the Mirror. Hermione would only scold him, and Neville would only be frightened by what Harry saw. And, though he cared about her, Tracey couldn't keep a secret even if you obliviated her. He elected to keep the cloak and his vision in the mirror to himself.

Harry would, at least, have the pleasure of returning the book to Daphne. He had already finished, and had discovered it mentioned a practice called augeomency. He found his casting was faster with this new knowledge on breathing and mind clearing exercises. He didn't know much about it, but resolved to discover more on the subject. He was already considering making another run to the library to find new material. He wanted something less… agonizing, than _Breaking and Entering the Mind_. He read Daphne as soon as he saw her, enjoying by proxy her happiness from the break.

"I finished the book you sent me, and figured you'd want it back as soon as possible." She just looked at him in shock as she accepted the book from him.

"How did you have time for that?"

"What else would I have been doing?"

[I should have known the only thing he got up to was studying.]

"How was your Christmas?" He asked, having missed her emotions. "Did you see your sister?"

"Astoria and I had a wonderful holiday. It was nice to see her again. She won't be coming for another two years, so she wanted to hear all about Hogwarts and the Boy-Who-Lived." She had a smirk on her face.

"Did you tell her you were friends with me?"

She shook her head with a smirk, "I told her you were a dangerous dark wizard."

He laughed at that.

Tracey thanked him profusely for her new owl. She had named it Silver and had already pawned some of the treats she bought for Hedwig to feed it. He handed her all of the ones he had left, and listened to her talk for almost an hour straight about Daphne's stay at her house.

"You know we had Daphne put the star on top of the tree. Since she was a guest and all, my mother insisted, and when she tried to put it on she almost fell and took the whole tree down with her. She wasn't hurt or anything like that, but she screamed a little and turned all red. She stayed embarrassed for at least four hours."

"Half an hour at the most," Daphne protested, ruining her case somewhat by turning pink.

Tracey gave her a confident smirk. "We timed it, me and Dad. My mother was so worried, but we just wondered how long it would take you to turn back."

"That's what you were doing?" Daphne looked shocked, she evidently remembered a time when that might have actually happened. She turned even darker red as Harry laughed, absorbing their feelings.

When Neville came back he was frantically looking for his toad, but it was already gone. Harry decided that he would try and keep an eye on it next time he saw it, not only to help, but to see what it did. Neville also thanked him for the cactus seeds.

"Have you tried to grow them yet?"

Neville shook his head. "I'm waiting until it gets warmer, you're supposed to plant them in the summer."

Hermione had missed the library deeply, but now she was reunited with her long-lost love and spent six hours the day before term started, inside. She was determined to take first in their class rankings for the entire year and not to finish behind him. He didn't know how she expected to do it while reading _Famous Wizards of the Modern Era,_ but he didn't try to coax the bushy haired girl out of it.

His biggest surprise had been Lisa, who caught him in the common room at the end of the day.

"I just w-wanted to thank you for your present," she managed to stammered out, "e-e-even though I didn't get you anything." He noticed Terry Boot looking like he expected Harry to start cursing everyone in the room.

He smiled and nodded. "It was my pleasure, and don't worry about it, I'll see you in Charms tomorrow." They would continue to be partners until the end of the year, according to Professor Flitwick. He felt her relief, embarrassment and a combination of other odd emotions as he stepped past her to the boys' dormitory.

Terry Boot almost looked disappointed, and earned himself a headache for it.

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Quidditch was starting again, along with everything else. Harry dearly hoped that his second game of Quidditch would be more memorable than his first. He told Hermione as much and she hit his arm.

"I can't believe you are going to play again after what happened the first time!"

What could he say? He loved flying. He thought it was an awful lot like legilimency, allowing him to feel free and confident. He loved the rush of the crowd. The air became so thick with thier emotions that there was nothing empty anywhere. During a match, to his senses, the crowd bloomed like a setting sun. He compared it to Daphne's feelings on using charms to enchant, and Neville's feeling of success in Herbology, or even Hermione's feeling when she answered a teacher's question.

If they won their next match against Slytherin, the house of snakes would be knocked out of the Quidditch cup for the first time in seven years. The Slytherin team had a lot of their experienced players graduate the year before, so Harry had high hopes.

He did not envy the Gryffindors in their upcoming game against Hufflepuff. Snape was supposed to referee. He could only imagine that it would end in disaster for the lions. That was all very well, but he had another reason for not wanting Snape near him while he was playing Quidditch. When he had told Daphne that, she had hit his other arm.

Quidditch training had another upside, in that it helped Harry fall asleep, or, at the very least it prevented him from staying up all night reading _Subtle Legilimency Techniques_. His obsession had become somewhat dire; so much so, that all his friends had commented on it.

Even Lisa had said, "What happened to you? You must feel awful!" in Charms, before promptly turning pink. He couldn't exactly tell her that he was trying learn how to break into other people's minds. He thought she might react poorly to that. She suggested that he get more sleep when he told her it was just Quidditch training.

Daphne, Neville, Hermione and Tracey had disagreed. When he mentioned that it was Quidditch that was bothering him, they ran with it and had offered suggestions.

"Don't play," Tracey recommended.

"Say you're ill," Neville tried

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione offered.

"Really break your leg." He took a step away from Daphne at _that_ suggestion. "What? You don't think they would check?"

Less fortunately, the return to school and the resuming of classes also meant Malfoy was back. Once, Neville was almost thirty minutes late to a study session with Harry, eventually hopping over to their usual table in the library. Malfoy had used a Leg-Locker curse on Neville, and he must have hopped all the way there.

"He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on," Neville informed him glumly.

Harry was furious that not one person had applied the counter curse on his friend. He was so angry, parseltongue had almost slipped into his speech when Harry told Neville he shouldn't worry.

"Malfoy is nothing but a pale shadow of his criminal father, and you're the spitting image of yours, a hero."

He performed the curse over and over on Neville after teaching him the counter curse so that it wouldn't happen again. He also taught Neville the knock-back hex, actually wanting to teach him the piercing hex. Neville had thought that might be a little extreme. Harry disagreed.

Malfoy reminded him too much of Dudley.

Daphne, who had never seen him angry, had left early during their practice that day. He was too angry to even bother reading her to find out why. It took him to the end of the day to calm down, but by that time he'd thought of a sufficient revenge.

 _Arrogant twat._

He, none too gently, took hold of the memory of cursing Neville and pushed some of that pain into Malfoy's head the next few times he saw the blond git. He aimed to form an association Pavlov would be proud of.

 _When you don't take the carrot, you get the stick._

Malfoy had needed several headache draughts from Madam Pomfrey to make it through the week.

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Harry didn't know whether he was imagining it or not, but he seemed to keep running into Professor Snape wherever he went. At times, he even wondered if Professor Snape might be following him, trying to catch him on his own. The man seemed somehow suspicious of him after Malfoy's pains and ever since their first lesson Harry suspected that the man also knew legilimency. He strongly considered warning his friends, but didn't know how he would explain his suspicions.

Potions lessons were becoming more bearable, though. His hours spent studying materials meant that he was more than able to improve on the recipes Professor Snape provided. Professor Snape seemed to have allowed a begrudging respect for his dedication.

Harry's probes were getting stronger, but they were still pitiful for finding particular memories. They seemed to only cause his targets pain, since he struggled to direct his way through other people's minds by sending impressions or emotions. However, memories he did receive were a now substantially longer and, sometimes came with brief moments of both sound and image rather than one or the other.

After Gryffindor's triumph over Hufflepuff in their game, seeing them play had made him more excited for his own upcoming match. Their flying foxes had run away with the score so much that Hufflepuff had no hope of keeping up. Even with Professor Snape calling questionable fouls, Gryffindor would be in the house cup.

On the day before his match Harry was walking to Charms, early, as he usually did, and Lisa decided to join him. She would sometimes come down from Ravenclaw tower with her friends, or when she wanted some advice before Charms, or any other class. Harry knew that it was just an excuse to talk to him; she would be too nervous otherwise. They were now able to talk more casually, and Harry found he didn't have to carry the quite as much. A relief, for somebody like him. She considered him a friend now, even if she never said so, and she was easily the most skittish out of the two of them.

"Michael Corner used the debate podiums last night with Terry Boot. He argued using historic examples that parseltongue isn't evil, and several wizards from the Gaunt family were never dangerous. Of course, someone pointed out that the Gaunt family tended to have a penchant for going mad. I thought that it was the exception rather than rule, though. I wonder if…" It was very Ravenclaw of them, and of her.

He looked to see why she had stopped talking.

There was a group of people huddled around something, all first years. Harry heard a voice stammering out.

"Y-y-your just a sh-sh-shadow of your f-father, a-a c-cr-riminal." It was Neville and Harry could imagine who he was talking to. Harry began to walk towards the huddling group of first years. Lisa looked at him, wide eyed, and followed behind, clutching her books close to her chest.

"How dare you speak about my father that way Longbottom, you filthy squib! _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry recognized Neville's wand traveling through the air. Towards Malfoy's hand. Harry's ears roared. He reached across his chest and drew his wand from the robe pocket over his heart.

He held out his left hand and just like he had at the Dursleys used his magic to move something. He gave the wand an extra push and Neville's wand abruptly sped up, flying over Malfoy's outstretched hand and over his head. Everyone turned to follow its path straight into Harry's awaiting left hand.

"H-Harry." Neville sounded more than a little relieved.

Harry saw red. How dare Malfoy touch Harry's things?

"Hey Neville, having a good morning?" He asked with mock earnestness. His glare never wavered from Malfoy's smug face. "I just found this and I thought I'd return it to you." Lisa had stopped walking with him, taking a step to the side and gaping at him.

Malfoy sneered and opened his mouth. "Potter, coming to save your useless friend?"

Harry kept walking. "You're very brave with your little goons standing there." There was nothing little about Crabbe and Goyle, except the one thing that mattered; their magical talents, or rather lack thereof. His speech had warbled between English and Slytherin's noble tongue. It had the desirable effect of encouraging everyone watching to step away from him, forming a circle of bodies around him and Malfoy.

The blond began, "If you think-"

" _Flippendo,_ " Harry whispered. Though he desperately wanted to use the piercing hex _praefigo_ , or the _diffindo_ 's more sinister twin _lacero_ , or even the Puncturing curse _compungo_.

The spell hit Malfoy's chest and lifted him right off his feet. He was flung bodily down the corridor three meters, for a rough landing on his ass. He was wheezing hard and almost crying, prompting Crabbe and Goyle to step forward. Harry wanted to enter their minds and use some of the things he had learned, but he figured that Dumbledore would disapprove. Though tempting, the idea of Malfoy collapsing with blood running from his nose would only come back and bite him later.

" _Petrificus totalus_ ," he incanted at one, then, " _Wingardium Leviosa._ " Goyle fell on his face immediately, while Crabbe floated upwards the moment he stepped forward to swing his fist at Harry.

 _Are these even wizards?_

Harry stepped past the both of them and handed Neville his wand. "I'll see you in the library later, Neville." Neville was still staring at Malfoy gasping for breath. Harry turned back around to see Lisa looking at him, horrified.

 _And we had made so much progress._

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Harry's team was eying him warily on the Quidditch pitch the next day, the Slytherin team even more so. He briefly wondered who Daphne and Tracey would be cheering for.

He kicked off from the ground at the whistle and circled the pitch like a hawk. Slytherin's chaser game was better than their own, so Harry would occasionally dive bomb them to break up their formations and prevent them from putting too much pressure on the Ravenclaw goals, however, the score was steadily turning in Slytherin's favor.

They would be in trouble against Gryffindor, even if they won this game. The Gryffindor chasers were brilliant, and the Weasley twins were in a class of their own, communicating to each other and setting up shots with the bludgers with unbelievable intuition.

Luckily, Slytherin's beaters were not one half so well coordinated, and Harry found Ravenclaw's beaters were perfectly capable of keeping their team safe.

He spotted the snitch, diving through the Slytherin team one last time and seeing the Slytherin seeker, a small boy from third year, ignore Harry and continue looking for the snitch. In a flash of blue and bronze, Harry pivoted on his broom and held up the snitch proudly for all to see, grinning.

Someone had held onto their Potter for President banner and it waved furiously in the resulting cheer.

As he slowly rotated in place, taking in the applause, he spotted a fist fight breaking out in the stands near the Gryffindor section. Red and blond hair went down in a flurry of flailing limbs. If Malfoy chose someone else to antagonize, that was fine by Harry.

 _Not my problem._

After the incident with Malfoy, and once he could stop worrying about the impending Quidditch match, he had attempted to repair things with Lisa. It took a few days, but eventually she started following him to Charms again.

"Sorry about what happened with Malfoy," he told her. "It wasn't what I had in mind when I woke up that morning."

She gave him a nervous look.

"I think you're a good friend for helping Neville… it's just… if… parseltongue sounds creepy and, I… well… not that you're creepy… it's just…" He looked into her eyes and found what she was trying to say.

"I think I understand. It's just unnerving. It's unnatural." She was giving him an apologetic look. She didn't understand his ability, so it unsettled her a little.

He shrugged. He hardly cared about something like that. Still, the progress he had made at convincing most other students he wasn't going to hex them to death in their sleep had taken a huge step back.

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As term went on, Harry found himself being drawn to the idea of the Philospher's stone. He read a little about alchemy, and found that it was much like potions mixed with transfiguration. It was a means to make transmutations permanent, and creating the foundations of powerful magical substances. Unfortunately, he couldn't grasp the concepts all that well. A great deal of it was rooted in Arithmancy, something he couldn't take until third-year, so he was forced to put it on hold.

What he had found that captured him next, almost as much as his studies on the mind arts, was a text on spell creation in the library. He never knew wand movements had such a profound effect on different spells. He also learned why spell creation was so difficult. The objective was to create a spell that did something consistently. This was hard to do, as a creator modified the spell even as their own emotions and attitudes affected their casting. He resolved to try and make a spell at some point; all the greatest wizards did. He was certain that the silvery instruments in the Headmaster's office had no common enchantments, and that they were all likely created by the Headmaster himself.

Daphne was inordinately pleased with the way Harry had wiped the floor with Malfoy again. There must have been a great deal bad blood between them, or at least their families. If the comments on the train and her pleasure at his victories over the ponce weren't enough evidence, he could also feel her derision for the boy whenever he came up. Daphne was, however, becoming increasingly frustrated with her charms and enchantments. The snitch she had enchanted from his gift set _wanted_ to be caught. It dove at people, and tried to get as close as physically possible. Once, when Harry was practicing some defensive spells with Neville, it nearly flew down the other boy's throat.

"I can get the quill to pull ink from the bottle and use it to write, but the ink always goes back into the bottle after a few minutes!" She was trying to make a quill that she would only need to dip into an inkwell once, that would continue to pull ink from that bottle to write with.

Harry didn't have the heart to explain to her the concept of muggle pens and ink cartridges.

"Well what spell are you using to summon the ink?"

"I wasn't summoning the ink, I was using a recall charm. We won't be using summoning spells until fourth year." She glanced down at her quill and the parchment she had scribbled on for tests.

Harry hummed thoughtfully as he looked it over. "I think you might have cast the charm a bit _too_ well. Sure, the quill is recalling the ink, but when you connected the quill to a new bottle, I think the spell is then recalling the ink _back_ to the original bottle."

Harry was worried about how she might 'fix it' this time. He didn't need to walk around covered in ink, and Daphne would almost certainly hex him if it went wrong. She had once come into potions completely drenched with ink when the quill squirted the entire bottle out like a rogue hose. Pansy Parkinson's giggling and mocking had driven Daphne spare, and he was sure that when Pansy fell down a flight of stairs later that day it was purely coincidence.

"What if we try and stick the ink on the parchment, just to see if I'm right."

They modified a new quill so that it would stick the ink to the parchment, but the recall spell just pulled the parchment into the inkwell with the ink, crumpling the parchment and spilling the bottle. Harry thought it was fairly amusing, but Daphne was glowering.

Eventually, they paired a finite with the recall charm to prevent the recall after the quill had written something. Daphne had been quite pleased, clapping her hands together and grinning excitedly. Harry was sure it was all the sweeter for her, because he was only one covered in ink by the end of it.

Similarly, Harry's successes in class often had other students in Ravenclaw asking for advice. Particularly in potions, where Harry's brews received unusually high marks for somebody outside Slytherin. When Michael overheard him explaining his success to Lisa, Michael had forced him to use the podiums one night to present.

"Professor Snape's teaching style is unorthodox because he isn't teaching us how to brew potions." Goldstein looked ready to walk away and Terry Boot had snorted. "All of the recipes that he gives us are inefficient in at least one major way."

"We're supposed to improve on them?" Mandy Brocklehurst caught on first.

Harry nodded. "If we can improve potions, then we can most certainly brew them. I suspect it prepares us and starts building the mindset for us to invent Potions on our own." Harry believed Professor Snape had invented at least a dozen throughout his career.

"Okay..." Goldstein looked more interested, and Harry even saw second year Cho Chang, one of the chasers for the team, and her friends listening to him. Evidently, they hadn't discovered the secret either. "So, for the Draught of Forgetfulness yesterday, what were we supposed to improve on?"

The potion used honey from French Thristran Bees, a magical creature known for its sting, and blue poppy flowers, which were much more mundane, but had connections to even mundane drugs. Harry thought carefully for a moment.

"You all spent your time juicing the leaves and separating the honey from the honey combs," he began.

"That is what the instructions said to do," Su Li countered.

"Yes, but then why did Professor Snape provide a filter?" He shot right back. "I dumped leaves and honeycomb's straight in and filtered them out at the end. I also could have reduced the temperature, to prevent the Honey from caramelizing, and I could have mashed the leaves before I put them in."

"So, we're trying to be more efficient with the recipes." Michael Corner said with understanding in his eyes. "What else does Professor Snape do?"

Harry paused, Su Li took the opportunity and left to get a parchment to write what he was saying down. He waited for her to return and be ready.

"Professor Snape seems to focus on extracting ingredients, at least for now. I imagine in the future there will be processes to improve, like cooking at a lower temperature, or if the text recommends six stirs try seven for its arithmetic properties. There could be other things as well but..." He trailed off.

 _Like adding a different ingredient._

Harry was loath to give up all the answers to his success to a group of people who seemed to scarcely like him, but seeing Lisa's wide eyes and smile made it worth it.

"So," said second year Marietta Edgecomb, one of Cho Chang's friends "we had to make a Flesh Sealing Tonic a few days ago, what should we have done there?" She didn't seem to be trying to stump him, but there was some challenge to her words.

A basic healing potion. What ingredients had restorative powers that would be used in such a potion? Harry paused to think for a moment.

"Well, it's not really fair because he hasn't see the recipe yet…" Lisa stammered out. He felt grateful for the loyal, if unnecessary, defense.

Terry Boot seemed eager to disagree. "He should have at least some idea, if he's so good."

Harry did have some idea; a basic study of rudimentary ingredients has served him well. "Did the recipe call for unicorn horn?"

Marietta shook her head. Terry Boot seemed to smell blood. Harry rubbed the fault in his jawbone.

"Gryphon claw then." It wasn't a question. "Was it powdered, diced or pickled?" He doubted the latter two, the talons of a gryphon were expensive. It was likely they only used a little, as a source of magical power rather than for its unique properties. Although, it did carry resilience to a potion, which would be greatly beneficial in this case.

"Powdered, right?" Marietta nodded, looking surprised. "With dittany seeds? He doubted such a weak potion contained the mature, powerful, and ludicrously expensive leaves which gave Essence of Dittany it's fantastic capabilities. It was damnably hard to grow, and only did so in a few Mediterranean and Caribbean Islands; or at least, magical dittany was that way. The muggle version was all too commonly sold to magical markets, illegally advertised as its miraculous counterpart.

"We were supposed to dice them," Cho informed him, clicking her teeth in irritation at apparently being misled.

There were more surprised looks at his ability to determine such a thing.

"I imagine that was difficult." They were small and round, and would have been difficult to cut. "You should have crushed them, to get as much juice as possible."

Terry Boot looked like he swallowed something sour, but the others seemed more accepting. He answered a few more questions, and soon after found his housemates sitting closer to him when he read in the common room, or during meals.

 _I should have known being knowledgeable would have won them over. I was approaching them the same way I did Daphne and Tracey._

Harry finally understood the difference between a Ravenclaw's wit and a Slytherin's cunning.

 _I should have just let them dissect me to study my talent._

While mostly joking, he was certain that the chance to study his talent would make any Ravenclaw jump at the opportunity.

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Spell creation was, Harry learned, an ambitious undertaking. He imagined something simple. A spell that would simply spin an object one hundred and eighty degrees. It wasn't complicated, it wasn't difficult to imagine happening and yet he still struggled.

Several texts he found suggested that an incantation may distract from the process of spell creation so he sat in silence.

 _Spin._

He demanded as he flicked his wand at a chair.

There was no effect.

 _Spin._

He tried a different wand movement. More of a jab then into a flicking motion.

The chair fell over unspectacular.

He supposed that it had technically rotated ninety degrees. Even if it was along the wrong axis, and had nothing to do with his spell.

He nearly growled in frustration but he attempted to calm himself. He used occlumency to reassert his authority over himself. It wasn't easy but after breathing and clearing his thoughts he found it was far easier to focus and to imagine what he wanted to have happen.

 _Spin._

He ordered his power to obey his will. To flow into the world and manifest. He could see the chair spinning in his mind.

To his delight it did spin. Then it didn't stop. The chair rotated continuously, making a scraping noise against the floor without stopping.

" _Finite_." He invoked. The chair slowed to a stop and this time Harry couldn't help but growl.

His intent had slipped into just rotation but without the desire to stop or with limits. He had neglected certain aspects of the spell in favor of concentrating on the effects of different wand movements.

He gave a leftward swoosh of his wand that rotated the tip of his wand. It was a short and jerky movement and the chair slid all the way across the room at a pathetically slow pace, scraping against the floor, until it reached a desk and stopped immediately.

He rubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

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As winter turned to spring the lake defrosted, and Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins filled their time teasing and tickling the tentacles of the squid, occasionally lobbing toast in its direction. Tracey no longer wrote him, Daphne, Neville, and occasionally even Hermione, notes using her new owl, just for the sake of using it. Harry was glad that ended, but was worried about what might strike her fancy next.

With the warm weather came the end of the year exams, and a growing anxiety within Harry which had little to do with them. He was more concerned what he would do when the school-year ended. Where would he go? It had affected his sleep, and he found himself awake at nearly all hours with his scar prickling.

Despite that, he knew he had done very well in their exams – although the heat in the large classroom where they did written portions nearly drove him spare. The heat irritated him and made him restless, but not nearly so restless as Daphne. They had been given Cheat-Catch Quills for their exams, so she wasn't allowed to use her own. Tracey had been rather put out as well, as she had bothered Daphne to no end about receiving one until Daphne gave up and enchanted one for her.

Harry was confident that he did well on his theory exams, but knew Hermione would have him beat. However, Harry's practical went exceedingly well, and he even demonstrated a weak shield charm he had been practicing for credit, much to Professor Flitwick's delight, as well as a rudimentary inanimate-to-animate transfiguration for Professor McGonagall, who smiled at him and told him the display reminded her of his father.

Neville seemed to think Harry's behavior was just examination nerves, but Daphne disagreed. Harry had so far managed to dodge each attempt by Tracey to draw the truth out of him.

"Why are you so worried? you're at the top of the class. No one is going to score higher than you and you know it. You've even started practicing second year spells, and _episkey_ and _protego_ are even more complicated than that, and you do the both of _them_ alright. Are you having nightmares? Are the other boys in Ravenclaw mean to you? Do you like the Ravenclaw dormitory? What color are the curtains in there? I bet they're all blue and bronze. Ugh, bronze. Silver is much prettier, don't you think? I think Slytherin had good taste with his colors but I suppose Ravenclaw was a bit of a nerd, so that's why her colors are all like that. Also, why don't you wear your glasses anymore? Hermione has been telling everyone that you have little pieces of stuff in your eye, is that true?"

Okay, so there really wasn't much dodging on his part. She distracted herself well enough on her own. Daphne was trickier, and her eyes often glinted with suspicion he knew he couldn't just throw off or divert.

The potions regiment the Headmaster put him on had finally ended, and halfway through their exams he woke up to find he no longer needed glasses. He was a fair bit taller, skinny, but not scrawny, and a scant few inches shorter than Ron Weasley, the tallest in their year.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest. He should never have given up on finding a way to banish the spirit.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct, or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

He gave her a long and suffering look, before glancing at the boy who was forced to share a common room with the girl. Harry, as much as he liked her and discussing theory with her, felt he got just enough of her to safely stomach from their time in the library; he could only imagine what it was like for Neville.

He decided to approach Professor McGonagall in her office in order to ask about speaking to the Headmaster, regarding his accommodations for the summer.

"Hello Professor, I was hoping you could help me, I wanted to talk to Professor Dumbledore."

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

"I uh… well…" He swallowed. He was incredibly uncomfortable about talking about this and, for the first time all in a couple months, he wanted to be in his cupboard. He swallowed that down too. The wizard in the mirror didn't need that, and neither would he.

"He's my magical guardian, he told me he didn't want me to go back to my Aunt and Uncle and I wanted to talk to him about where I would be staying."

Professor McGonagall sighed, her eyes had pierced him before but now they flickered away from his face. "I did warn him about them, you know, your relatives. I was furious with him when I saw your letter at the start of term."

Harry had never been more uncomfortable in his life. He looked at her nervously.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she informed him after a moment. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

 _Flew? Could he not apparate?_

"He's gone, then?" He asked sullenly.

"I'm afraid so, Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Mr. Potter, he has many demands on his time, though I am sure he will make sure you are well taken care of. You needn't worry, Potter, you won't be returning to your family. Even if Professor Dumbledore _would_ allow it, you can be sure that I most certainly would not."

He nodded. "When can we expect him back, if you don't mind me asking?" He said the last part quickly. He was always more nervous around those he couldn't read. "This has been bothering me lately, you see."

Professor McGonagall nodded and smiled at him.

"Did he leave for business with Nicolas Flamel? Is he moving the Stone? Or the Mirror?" Harry didn't realize he wanted to see the mirror so badly, and spoke without thinking.

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know -?" She spluttered.

 _Oops._

"Er- which one?"

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. "Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said with finality. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, it is safe here in the castle." The last part seemed tagged on as an afterthought.

"You sound worried, Professor." Whoever had wanted it had been willing to break into Gringotts to get it, and that was supposedly no mean feat.

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

Harry felt himself grow wary. If someone was going to try and steal it, they would do so while the Headmaster was away. Daphne joined him with Tracey as he approached the room where he usually practiced.

He was so deep in thought he ran right into Professor Snape.

"Oh, sorry professor, excuse me."

Professor Snape's eyes were cold and empty, but he no longer seemed to take satisfaction in tormenting Harry. There was something… _something_ in him instead.

"You'll want to be more careful, Mr. Potter." Snape loomed over him.

"Yes professor." He nodded and turned to go practice some magic, but Snape called him back.

"Be warned, Potter - any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are punished. Good day to you."

Snape knew? Harry frequented the restricted section of the library, pouring over books on mind magic. He would finish one and return it and select a new one, occasionally he would take something for dark curses and other things, _the Basics of Sacrificial Magic_ had been both interesting and enlightening.

"Night-time wanderings?" Daphne asked, eyebrows raised. "Is this why you aren't sleeping?"

It was, partly. He scrunched up his face; she wasn't going to let this go.

"I have an invisibility cloak. I used it to break into the restricted section."

Tracey gasped. "The restricted section?! Why would you do that?! What have you been learning? Is it dark? Will you show us? Ooh, I bet it's very dark. Are you very good at it, do you think? Can we see your cloak?"

 _I am fairly good at it, yes._

"I need you to not spread this one around, Tracey, okay? Please?" He had never asked her for anything before, and the unique request had her immediately agreeing. "Do you promise?" He asked earnestly.

"Of course, now what have you been learning? Can you show us?"

Harry shook his head.

"I can't show you, its abstract, alright?"

Tracey eventually conceded and left, after it became clear he wasn't going to talk about it.

"It's the mind arts, right? I know you're interested in them." Daphne was far more persistent, and was the only one who knew about that aspect of his studies.

[He will tell me.]

Harry couldn't argue with her confidence, but he severely doubted he would give her the full details.

"Yes, it is. It's not exactly something I can show off and it's fairly difficult. I suspect to master occlumency I would need someone to attempt legilimency on me repeatedly and practice enduring the assault." That, at least, was true, and it pushed her towards that branch of the mind arts. Misleading, but not false.

She nodded. "But you still want to learn."

He sighed. She really wasn't dropping it.

"I want to learn other aspects of it too. There's another aspect called legilimency I want to master in my life, and occlumency practices can help with casting to some extent. There's also a few even rarer practices."

Several, and they were all useful, being aided by occlumency to a large extent.

"What other practices?" She was getting more interested.

"Augeomency is the practice of using your magic to strengthen your mind, it's supposed to help with memory and recall, but it's just as difficult as the others."

Not to mention abstract.

"Do you think I could learn them?" He blanched at the thought of losing access to her emotions.

"I don't see why not, but I can hardly teach you." That was true, no white lies in there.

She smiled this time and nodded, thankfully accepting his words.

"Come on, you're going to show me how you did that shield." She demanded.

He agreed perhaps a little too readily.

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Harry picked himself up out of bed and grabbed his cloak and wand.

 _I need a new book… something on… counter curses._

He decided on a whim.

He marched down to find that Lisa was in the common room, waiting for him.

"You're going out again, aren't you?" She said.

Harry mentally cursed.

"I am." He confessed.

"Where do you go? You know we're worried about your sleep. Professor Flitwick even asked about it once." It seems he was not nearly as subtle as he wanted to be.

"I like to explore the castle, on my own time."

She frowned at him. "I-I think you s-should go to bed." He could feel her nervousness.

She really didn't want to stand up to him, as his friend.

[Please just go, just go back to bed.]

There was an image of blonde hair and blue eyes, she was biting her lip nervously.

"Daphne put you up to this." It wasn't a question, and it caught her off-guard. "She told you to try and keep me in."

"She's worried about you, we all are – your friends, that is." Ah, all of them then. They finally all got together. His own attempts at that could never be called successes.

 _It really couldn't have happened at a worse time._

He saw the memory better, they were all there, grouped together. Neville, Hermione, Tracey, Lisa and Michael Corner. Harry hadn't actually expected him.

"Michael and the other boys say that you are always awake any time they should happen to wake up! And Tracey said you have been wandering the castle at night!"

The gesture meant a shocking amount to him; them getting together just to help him. But it frightened him too, having them all meet together without him. Plus, he really wanted, or perhaps _needed_ , to get to the third floor.

"Look Lisa, I'm alright, really. I am. You don't have to do this, okay?" That was evidently the wrong thing to say. The shy girl seemed shake her head, scrunching her hands up near her face.

 _Oh no she's going to start to cry._

He looked her in the eye. He had no idea how to comfort her. He reached into her head. Gently laying reassurance in her mind. He tried to calm her down, but it wasn't working. He failed to create the connection. He wanted to snarl, he had done it so easily to Malfoy on the train.

"Lisa, I just have trouble sleeping, it's not a big deal. I like to see the castle and I never get caught, do I?"

She sighed, and he could see her begin to relent.

"I appreciate this, you know? All of you getting together like this. It means a lot to me, but I'm okay. Really." Harry wasn't a psychologist, but he knew that probably wasn't entirely true. However, he _was_ better. He rarely panicked in conversation and he hardly ever longed for his cupboard anymore. He had been happier here than the previous nine years combined.

"Fine. The others won't be happy though."

He felt relieved. "Thank you, Lisa." He nudged something that made her feel warm inside and she smiled.

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Harry supposed that was the first time he used his talents on a friend in a way that went beyond a simple invasion of privacy. Sure, he used them to find out what they wanted and make them content – which was a manipulation, certainly – but was never as _forward_ as that.

He didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he asked suddenly as Harry climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

Harry had a sudden idea. "Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake, I didn't see you, of course I didn't, you're invisible, forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you." And he scooted off.

"You are not the Bloody Baron." Harry heard from behind him. A voice like steel wool on metal spoke just above a whisper.

Harry whirled around to see a wand leveled at him. Holding the wand was a strong jawed man with a turban.

" _Imperio._ " The voice came confident and cool, barely above a whisper and yet it brimmed with _fire_.

A soft influence in Harry's head grew. Harry felt as though he might float away. The world no longer concerned him. There was a voice though. It whispered.

 _Show yourself to me._

Harry removed the cloak with twitching and sporadic fingers.

He felt bile in his throat and he rushed back to Earth.

"Potter." The Professor said huskily. "Of all the students in all the castle, _you_ would be here tonight?"

Harry shook his bindings. He was covered in strings and they pulled at his mind.

 _Fight back_.

He demanded himself.

No sooner had he thought the words was there pain. He fell to his knees clasping his skull.

"The price of resistance, Mr. Potter." The Professor's words were amused. "As entertaining as this would be, I am in a bit of a rush. _Avada-_ "

" _No._ "

Harry heard a new voice. He heard it out loud, and he heard it in his head.

" _Bring him. I want to show him. I want him to know._ "

"Come Potter." Quirrell bade.

Harry considered resistance and an odd creep of agony traced its way up his spine. A warning. Obedience would be enforced.

Harry followed the professor and as he did he felt a sense of pleasure wash over him. Euphoria at his conformity.

Harry stepped inside the third floor corridor after the Professor Quirrell. In a magnificent twist of magic the man summoned a beautiful silver harp. The Professor walked past the enchanted harp which he had bewitched to play a lullaby tune. It had evidently worked, because the enormous three-headed dog fell asleep. The great beast in the room really was impressive, and more than a little intimidating this close. He didn't gawk long, and quickly followed the man down.

He could hear the stuttering professor muttering to himself. The man had dropped down, so Harry cast _spongify_ on his shoes to be safe before following. He fell past some plant which was writhing away from an orb of fire, it gleamed like the sun and Harry could feel the heat even as he fell past it.

He landed on the ground, cushioned by his shoes. Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead, he could hear it over the Professor's mutterings. He pursued the man further in.

 _I'm going to die here._

Harry thought between the coaxing rushes of feeling that the imperious curse left him. They fell like waves on a beach; irresistible, undeniable, _eternal._

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

Quirrell nodded to himself. The Professor stood there, waving his wand and muttering. It took him a moment but eventually he determined the right key somehow and mounted the broom. He immobilized the keys with the freezing charm and flew up to it. He grabbed it, went over to the door, and opened it. Harry followed him through.

In the next room the man played an oversized game of chess to get through the room. It was fairly dramatic, as the pieces exploded when they died.

Harry felt the curse sag. Was it lifting? Could he run once it fell?

He clutched his skull as it was torn open by the mind magic. The spell had not actually faltered, it had been a trick. A reminder.

 _Was this the summit of mind magic?_

In the next room there was a troll which died almost instantly at the end of the professor's wand. A flash of light almost too fast to see, fire the burned so hot Harry could feel it nearly ten meters away.

The next room had a table with seven differently shaped bottles. They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

Quirrell picked up a piece of paper and read off of it. He muttered to himself before stepping forward and drinking from the smallest bottle. The man walked through the flames and the door on the other side.

"Drink Potter." He demanded.

 _Damn._

He took the last swallow from the small bottle, feeling ice rush through his veins. He stepped through the flames, then through the door.

"I thought Professor Snape would try to steal it. My friends told me he's the reason I fell from my broom. I assume it was you instead." Harry said out loud. He registered the first signs of panic but the curse on his mind swept such concerns away. Why should he worry when he was obeying his mast-

Harry nearly bit his tongue off as the thought almost crossed his mind. This man was not his master. Harry felt the lash of the man's whip against his mind for such noncompliant thoughts but Harry did not cry out.

He would not.

Anger sparked in Harry's chest and he felt a brush of cool air against him. The pain of the curse was little compared to the howling icy anger that Harry felt deep inside. The lashes died down to a whimpering irritation as Harry drew his magic into his mind.

He steeped himself in his frosty anger and he bided his time.

The man flicked his hand dismissively. "He was muttering the counter-curse to my own spell. A waste of effort, given that I shall kill you tonight. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were practicing the mind arts, though. In time you may even break free of this spell."

"That was you, the first day in Defense." Harry had never placed the cause of the breach. "Your disguise worked. I didn't know where that came from. Did you let the troll in as well?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls, you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there?"

It _had_ actually been fairly impressive.

"Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to maul you to death-"

 _What, you expect me to apologize?_

"-that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly." That was another question answered.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this fascinating mirror." It was only then, that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

Harry fell silent rather than risk Quirrell noticing that Harry was not tormented by the curse.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..." The man walked around the mirror and Harry watched him. The man seemed to think that he would be able to dispatch Harry at his leisure.

 _He's underestimating me._

It was good, though the man could probably kill him at a moment's notice. Harry didn't trust his shield to hold up against whatever Quirrell did to that troll.

Besides. Harry couldn't speak or risk his resistance being discovered and he was incapable of silent casting.

Even these thoughts now were risking the irritation, he felt it crawl around the base of his neck, sitting at the top of his spine, coiled like a serpent ready to strike. It was listening close to his thoughts.

It bit at him but he ignored it.

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

A master then? It seemed Quirrell's will was not his own.

 _That makes two of us._

Harry seethed.

"But I thought Snape hated me?" Harry said. It seemed that Quirrell's question counted as an invitation to speak.

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other, but he never wanted you dead."

"I don't understand..." the man muttered. "Is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry thought furiously.

It was hardly a fair contest. The man had greater magical knowledge and experience. He would likely discover the answer to the test first and he already had Harry under his thumb to a certain degree. Harry had no idea how far his new leash ran. How much give did he have? It seemed foolish to think that the imperius curse's effect couldn't be escalated further.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!" And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

" _Use the boy... Use the boy..._ "

Harry heard out loud and in his mind. The voice… it was like the noise that steel would make if it was alive then burned to death, yet soft. Like steel wool on copper.

Quirrell turned sharply towards Harry.

"Potter, come here."

Harry was compelled to stand in front of the mirror. He once again saw himself as a powerful wizard. The man was even greater now. This wizard had mastered Alchemy and held a red stone in his left hand. He was still regal, imperial and grand.

The man in the mirror laughed at Harry, imprisoned beneath the imperious curse. The man was his own emperor, he himself an entire empire.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

"Myself, but stronger. I'm wiser and more powerful."

Quirrell cursed.

"You lie," he seethed, drawing his wand. Harry summoned a weak shield the man shattered with ease, and he flew to the ground, gasping.

" _The boy… doesn't lie._ " The eerie voice made Quirrell freeze.

The high voice spoke again.

" _Let me speak to him... face-to-face..._ "

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

" _I have strength enough... for this..._ "

Petrified, Harry watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. It fell away and Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot. Harry would have screamed if he wasn't already trying to stay focused.

Where there should have been smooth skin on the back of Quirrell's head, there was instead a face; the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white, with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

The ice melted away inside him in horror.

" _Harry Potter..._ " it whispered.

Harry tried to take crawl backwards, but he couldn't move.

" _See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks… but I, the greatest wizard of all time, have been reduced to this half form._ "

Harry felt a trace of something against his mind. A boy in a bed beside Dumbledore, the memory floated to Harry's surface.

The fingers whispered softly in Harry's head.

" _I see you, child._ " It seduced. " _I had wished to kill you, but I have never wasted a resource. Especially not one that falls into my hands. And you are in my hands, Potter. Do not be afraid; clay doesn't fear its sculptor._ "

Harry broke the connection, summoning his strength and screaming. He tried to flee, springing to his feet to sprint towards the exit. He gestured and incanted with his wand to shatter the mirror in the hopes that it was necessary to get the stone. His bludgeoning hex bounced off the surface of the mirror instead, like, well, like it was reflected.

" _Seize him._ " Voldemort commanded almost casually, and almost immediately Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar, and his head felt as though it was about to split in two. He screamed in agony and closed his eyes to the pain. To his surprise, Quirrell let go.

His eyes opened again, and spotted Quirrell hunched in pain, looking at his smoking fingers.

" _Seize him. Seize him!_ " The Dark Lord commanded again, and Quirrell lunged,

knocking Harry clean off his feet and landing on top of him.

 _He could have used magic._

It seemed as though Quirrell was panicking, and if he was feeling as much pain as Harry, then the boy could relate.

"Master, I cannot hold him."

Quirrell's hands were bleeding profusely. They were scorched and the skin was swiftly blackening. Harry noticed this, and pressed his hands to the man's face. The man screamed and fell backwards to escape, but Harry pursued, grasping the man's cheeks and chin tightly in his hands. The man eventually stopped struggling, and Harry watched, barely conscious, as a black fluid streamed from his ears, eyes and mouth. It trailed upward before his dimming vision, formless.

Harry collapsed and rolled onto his back, darkness creeping into his vision, and then here was nothing.

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 _"Peace of mind for five minutes, that's what I crave." -Alanis Morissette_

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 **Next time there will be summer and the first half of the second year.**

 **Luna Lovegood Hype.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **WG**

 **Edited 4/5/18**


	4. The Hierophant

**Here we are, down to business. First in this chapter I skip loosely over the summer, not much to say, not much to do. I also attempt to resolve some long-term plot holes I believe JKR created in SS. Let me know how I did.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **Now, where were we?**

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" _Don't believe everything you think. Thoughts are just that–thoughts." - Alan Lokos_

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Harry blinked. There, above him, was the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Harry."

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, then it all rushed back to him; Quirrell, the stone. He began with an eloquent "Wha-" as he tried to sit up, but his head swam nauseatingly and he soon collapsed back to his bed.

"Astute of you. When I learned from Professor McGonagall you wished to speak to me, Harry, I did not think you would go so far to get my attention." Amusement twinkled in those pale blue eyes. "I shall attempt to get you up to speed, so to speak, since you are a little behind the times." Harry groaned. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I-"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

"Aren't you the Headmaster?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Ah, but this is Madam Pomfrey's domain, I would be a fool to get between her and her patients."

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he was in the hospital wing; the crisply-made beds and white linen sheets gave it away. He looked to his right.

 _Who robbed a candy shop?_

"Ah those, they are all tokens from your friends and admirers. What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."

 _Tracey…_

He decided the blame was most likely hers… somehow.

Harry leaned back into the bed. "You said I was behind the times, Sir?"

"Ah yes, you have been here for three days. Ms. Greengrass, Ms. Davis, Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Granger, and Ms. Turpin were all extremely worried."

 _Lisa_.

He groaned. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation. He could just imagine the poor girl blaming herself for what happened.

"And the Stone?"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone you are so infatuated with. Professor Quirrell did not manage to undo the enchantments, but I suspect you knew that, and even if he had, the stone was never here, at Hogwarts. By the time I reached the chamber, there was little to do but collect you. I feared I would be too late, as the effort to stop Quirrell nearly killed you."

 _What?_

"I was certain that the Stone was here, Sir."

"Most were. Well, Nicolas and I had a little chat. We agreed the best way to lure a budding dark wizard out of hiding was to set a trap. The wards here are quite impressive, arguably the greatest in Europe, and should someone have made an attempt on the Stone, I was to be alerted. Voldemort is not the first wizard to believe stealing the Stone might be useful, nor, I feel certain, he will not be the last."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.

"The wraith - You-Know-Who -" Harry started.

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, Sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed, he is amortal. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time. And, if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return."

"But not destroyed?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Voldemort delved deeper in the secrets of magic than I ever believed anyone would. He has done something to himself, something I do not understand; thus, I can do little about."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighed, "is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"You knew he was still around. You didn't tell me." There was bitterness in Harry's mouth. "You didn't tell me the man who murdered my parents wasn't dead."

"No, I did not, I had hoped to keep you safe here in the castle, where your paths might never have crossed." Harry nodded, able to _understand_ that at least.

"Why does he want to kill me, and why did he destroy my family, Sir?"

"Alas, I cannot tell you. Not today. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."

"But you will, tell me?"

"I shall."

Harry felt indignant, but knew better than to argue.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you, Harry. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that a love as powerful as your mother's leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, is the strongest form of protection. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

"Sacrificial magic?"

Dumbledore gave him a measured look. "Yes, I did not know you were interested in such things."

Harry blushed, "It was next to the books on legilimency."

Dumbledore nodded, but did not comment on the location of those books. "Tell me what you know, Harry, and I shall elucidate you."

"You can sacrifice something to obtain something else of equal value, it's similar to some alchemical laws. You can use it to enchant something, sacrificing something of value for an enchantment, or…"

"Or to gain a protection, or any number of other uses, but yes, Harry." Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill. "Your mother sacrificed her life, and every moment of happiness she may have otherwise had, to save you. I am confident that very little can overcome such a thing."

"Can you sacrifice anything other than things you love, could you use-"

"You can. You can use pain and misery to fuel a sacrifice, Harry. But I must warn you away from such a thing."

Harry nodded.

"My cloak, did you pick it up?"

Dumbledore nodded, "I believe it is resting in your trunk."

Harry sighed in relief.

"It was my father's." It wasn't a question, but there was a desire for answers there and several stronger emotions which made Harry's eyes nearly well with tears.

"It was. Your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things, invisibility cloaks... your father used it primarily for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food while he was here."

Harry resolved to find the kitchens.

"Why did he leave it with you, Sir?"

"Ah, what do you know about family magic?" Harry's look told him everything he needed to know. "I shall explain. Some families hoard magical knowledge for themselves. A particularly useful grimoire, or a powerful magical cloak. Some magical families guard these things very closely and, though it is rude to inquire about such things, I impressed upon your father to allow me to examine his cloak. I believed, and still do, that it is unique. At the very least, the enchantments have seemed to hold for an extraordinarily long time."

"And there's something else..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Professor Snape hates me because of my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy."

 _They loathed each other, then._

"And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?" Now the boy was even more perplexed.

"Yes..." said Dumbledore, wearing an odd smile. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt...I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace... However, I believe you have impressed Professor Snape. He was also friends with your mother, you see, I believe he now sees her in you. Your studies in potions are, I understand, quite remarkable. Indeed, you may even remind him of himself."

"And sir, there's one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

Why was the mirror there?"

"Ah, the trap. I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. The Mirror and the Stone are both powerful pieces of magic. I couldn't very well not tell the Ministry I was keeping such a powerful artifact around their children. By bringing the Mirror here I had to register it with the Ministry, thus, I created a paper trail within the Ministry of Magic, bread crumbs to follow, so to speak. After I spoke to my old Friend Nicolas in a not at all inconspicuous manner, moved the books on alchemy to the restricted section publicly, and withdrew a small package from Gringotts with plenty of witnesses around-"

"Voldemort would think the Stone was here, when it wasn't. You wanted to trap him and destroy him." Harry interrupted. It was ingenious. "I was wondering why you left on a broom instead of apparating to the ministry."

Dumbledore beamed at him, despite his rudeness. "Harry, I would have thought you would understand a desire to fly."

Harry grinned up at him.

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Madam Pomfrey was eventually, and reluctantly, persuaded that it was perfectly safe for his friends to come and visit them.

"Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in; his head was still a bit sore.

"Oh, Harry -we were sure you were going to- Dumbledore was so worried that-"

 _He hadn't seemed worried._

"The whole school's talking about it," said Tracey. "But nobody really knows what happened. Quirrell vanished and then you were in the hospital wing, and some Hufflepuff's thought they heard screaming but I'm not sure. I think that the Hufflepuff common room must be near the third-floor corridor. So, what happened?"

Now was one of the times Tracey expected a response.

Harry grimaced. He didn't like talking about himself. It always made him uncomfortable.

"I uh, I went out…"

"Out into the castle like you usually do, go on." Daphne looked noticeably impatient.

"Yeah, that. Anyway, I suspected that someone was going to try and steal the stone-."

"The Philosopher's Stone!" It was Hermione.

Daphne elbowed her and received a quick scowl.

"I went to the third-floor corridor to wait. I was going to see if I was right, to wait for someone to steal it and tell Dumbledore. When I got there though, Professor Quirrell had already made it past Fluffy. I followed him down and he solved some other traps."

Harry hesitated. Did he tell them the truth?

He breathed, and decided to tell them everything, except what he saw in the mirror, and the legilimency; those belonged to him.

He answered their questions and cringed under the ensuing silence.

"Why didn't you tell any of us you were suspicious?" Daphne asked, looking at him coldly.

[He doesn't trust us.]

Harry supposed she wasn't wrong.

"What could you have done?"

"We would have gone with you!" Harry looked at Neville with surprise.

"He didn't think we would have." It was Lisa, who hadn't said a word until now. He didn't have to look at her to know how guilty she felt.

No, he hadn't. It was probably written on his face.

"Well what would have you guys done? We all couldn't fit under my cloak, and he would have just killed you. The only reason I'm not dead is because he felt like talking."

"Don't say that!" Hermione gasped. "We all know how you took Malfoy apart."

"It's true, though," Harry said defensively. "None of you can even cast the shield charm and he tore right through mine. He underestimated me. If there were more of us he would have blown us all apart. It's all hypothetical anyway, there was hardly enough flame freezing potion left for me."

Lisa was shaking her head close to tears.

"I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?" He pleaded.

It was Tracey "We're not upset-"

"Speak for yourself." Daphne muttered.

"-We were just worried about you." Tracey finished.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know when I was leaving that I would almost die, and even when I followed Quirrell I didn't believe he was truly trying to steal the Stone. I thought he might have just been checking on it, and I wanted to see. I never suspected him of being capable of that, of any of that. I just wanted to see the Stone."

Everyone looked at Daphne who sighed. "Fine. You're right. Just, you can tell us things, you know?"

Harry nodded. He _could_ tell them things. They had proved it today.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry snuck out of the Hospital wing despite Madam Pomfrey's watchful eyes, and stole away to the quidditch pitch just in time for the game.

It went poorly for the Ravenclaws. Both the keeper and one of the beaters were smashed by bludgers from the well-coordinated twins. That only made things easier for the Gryffindors to score. They were running away with the game. Ten minutes into things, and Ravenclaw was losing by 120 points.

Harry only tried dive bombing the foxes once. He nearly ate a bludger for his troubles and hardly disrupted their assault. It wasn't worth the risk. Then he spotted something gold and fleeting. He dived towards it, chasing it past Oliver Wood's position and barely evading a bludger, sent by one of the twins, with a roll. He lost sight of the snitch.

He returned to circling the stadium, looking for the tricky golden ball, and keeping wary eyes on the Weasley twins. The Gryffindor Seeker was diving. Had the other boy seen it? Harry blitzed towards the boy and found he was indeed chasing something gold. Harry dived as well and boxed out the enemy seeker as the snitch flew towards Harry. However, every time he got close to the snitch one of the twins would bat a bludger at him. They kept bouncing a single bludger between them aiming to knock his teeth in.

He swerved to the left, away from the bludger and felt his fingers grasp at the gleaming ball. Ravenclaw's remaining beater flew in and broke up the rhythm of the bludgers and Harry snatched the snitch before Gryffindor's seeker could close in.

Madam Pomfrey caught up to him as he landed on the grass. She dragged him off the pitch and back into a bed. Harry never protested.

When Lisa came by later he made sure to apologize more directly.

"I'm really sorry Lisa, I didn't mean to lie to you."

She glared at him, but forgave him all the same. He could tell there were some lingering feelings of guilt and some other odd emotions, but knew that time would be his greatest asset.

She handed him a slip from Professor Flitwick. It was a congratulatory note on being top in his year. He accepted it proudly. He hadn't been first in everything – Hermione beat him out in history of magic and Neville had beat him in Herbology – but Harry wasn't surprised. He could imagine Hermione's irritation with her second-place finish.

Tracey stopped by with Daphne later on, wearing a wide smirk on her face.

"Daphne was fairly upset that she wasn't second, right behind you." Tracey informed him knowingly. "She felt cheated because she outplaced Hermione in everything but Transfiguration and History. She was second right behind you in Charms, Defense and Potions and she was first in Astronomy. She was thrilled that she did better than you in that at least, but she kept fuming. She kept saying that if you had died, then she would have been first in the year."

"I was not fuming."

 _Really, that's the bit you want to deny?_

Tracey leaned in close to Harry and whispered, "fuming," nodding sagely, although unable to suppress her impish smirk.

Daphne turned pink.

"Well it's true! Hermione didn't do better than me, she just lost less to you. She was furious when you cast the shield charm by the way. We hardly dragged her out to…"

"To?" Harry prompted as she trailed off.

Daphne looked at Tracey.

"We had a meeting about you, we tried to convince Lisa not to let you go out again." Oh right, that. They couldn't know he had already found out.

"You had a meeting behind my back?"

Daphne was concerned at how he might react, he felt from her thoughts. She worried he might think of it as a form of betrayal, and even Tracey leaned back, hunched in preparation. He paused for effect as though considering it.

"We were just worried- It wasn't like we were lying to you- we just meant to-"

"How did you and Hermione survive one another?" He interrupted, causing Daphne to freeze, wide-eyed, before she abruptly threw a book at him.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Hermione and Neville came by together later to talk to him. Neville had evidently realized some things about how Harry ended up standing in front of Quirrell.

"I think he meant for you to go. I mean you implied he knew about you going out in the castle," said Neville. "I think he planned it all, sending you your father's cloak and everything."

"Well, " Hermione exploded, it seemed they'd been discussing this already and she had some points to make. "If he did, I mean to say, that's terrible! You could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. " I reckon he had a pretty good idea what I might do. But even as smart as he his, I don't think he could have coordinated everything that got me there at the right time and the right place; and you're right. If everything hadn't gone perfectly I would've been killed."

"I dunno," said Neville. "He's as bright as they come, and more than a little mad." Harry recalled Dumbledore's reaction to eating a Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans beside Harry's bed, and his speech after the opening feast.

 _It's an act. Just like mine._

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Neville sad. "My gran thinks he's a loon, but she'd never cross him. He's a centennial wizard."

"Well yeah, I'm sure his age contributes to his…" Hermione paused looking for the right word, "eccentricity, but that's not-"

"No! I mean, well, yes." Neville got out. "That's not what a centennial wizard is. A centennial wizard is the sort of wizard who is born every hundred years. Have you heard the phrase 'a one-hundred-year storm'? It's like that, you know? A wizard who is so powerful and talented and great that they can't help but shape the world and the lives of the people around them."

Harry considered that. "Like Merlin or something?"

Neville nodded and Madam Pomfrey came in, likely to shoo them out. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Ravenclaw won, Dumbledore gave you a hundred points but nobody else knows why. It's driving the Slytherins mad."

The next morning, Harry felt nearly back to his old health.

"I want to go to the feast," he told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes.

I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said stiffly, as though in her opinion feasts were dangerous business.

He supposed he earned that after sneaking out to play Quidditch.

"Plus, you have a visitor." It was Hagrid and he was shaking with guilt.

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Hagrid informed Harry that he had been tricked into telling Quirrell how to get past Fluffy. After Harry managed to reassure the half-giant that Voldemort would have found another way through anyway, Hagrid gave him something he would treasure forever. The giant had written to Harry's parents' friends and put together a photo album. Harry had to resort to occlumency exercises to not cry before the feast.

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last check up, so the Great Hall was already full, completely decked out in blue and bronze to celebrate. A huge banner proudly displayed the Ravenclaw eagle that covered the wall behind the High Table; likely Flitwick's touch.

 _Why in Merlin's name isn't the sigil of Ravenclaw a raven?_

There was a hush as Harry stepped into the Hall, muted to a scattered few whispers as he moved to sit next to Lisa at the table, already surrounded by her year mates. Across from him was Michael Corner who grinned as Harry walked in.

Harry listened to the old man's waxing speech. It was as odd as anything that Dumbledore had a hand in ever was. It ended on a good note, and the feast was delicious.

All too suddenly, their wardrobes were empty and their trunks were all packed up. It all made Harry more than a little nervous. He worried that however they were packed, someone might have seen his books and cloak. At least he had snuck the restricted books back to their proper places. He figured he could get away with quite a bit, but taking the restricted texts might be pushing it. He still had no clue where he was going for the summer.

Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets, and Harry committed the strange toad's hiding place to memory.

They boarded the Hogwarts express all together and, unlike when he first arrived, Harry didn't feel any anxiety about talking or a desire to lock the door. Hermione and Daphne were even, dare he say it, cordial to each other. Lisa dropped by from her Ravenclaw friends part of the way through and went back some time later. Harry had been getting quieter and quieter as they approached, it grew until Daphne finally asked him why.

"Oh uh, I don't- er- really know where I'm staying this summer. He said, er - Dumbledore – said, I wasn't going to go back to my aunt and uncle, but that was at the beginning. Beginning of the year, that is, but he didn't tell me anything else."

Hermione looked more than a little concerned.

Harry interrupted quickly "I'm sure Dumbledore has a plan, though."

"It's Dumbledore." Neville nodded sagely. Like he had just given them all some unexpected and hidden knowledge.

Harry stepped onto the platform, he said goodbye to his friends and promised to write. "I'll send you an owl Harry." Tracey looked thrilled at the thought.

"Thanks," said Harry, "I might need something to look forward to."

People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"So popular and famous, _Potter._ " Daphne teased him.

He groaned.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

It was a young red-haired girl that couldn't be anybody but Ron's younger sister, Ginny, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see him."

Harry panicked. Ron Weasley turned around and glared at him.

 _What the…!_

Harry had a strong desire to apparate.

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

His friends began to trickle away. He didn't see Lisa again but had promised to write earlier. Then, he met Daphne's sister and mother.

"You must be Harry," the woman greeted warmly, while Astoria scowled. He read her quickly and found she was jealous she still had two years left until she could go to Hogwarts.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, politely shaking her hand.

"You must imagine my surprise when I found out my daughter was Harry Potter's best friend." She said. "I never saw it coming."

Daphne's mother was a beautiful green-eyed witch with honey colored hair like her daughter.

Daphne flushed pink.

 _You can't imagine my surprise either._

"I didn't either, it just sort of happened."

Tracey went with Daphne, they were going to spend part of the summer together.

Harry greeted Mr. and Mrs. Granger just as politely, telling them her daughter was the brightest witch of her age.

Hermione's eyes swore vengeance when he emphasized 'witch' lightly and teasingly. He was sure she would spend the summer reading all that she could.

It was only as the platform began to clear that Neville's grandmother arrived.

Augusta Longbottom was a stern and austere looking woman. She was serious-faced and her mouth seemed perpetually in a short line.

Neville waved her down with a grin, "Gran!" He shouted, he was clutching his exam scores. He froze when he saw someone walking beside her, none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Afternoon Harry, Mr. Longbottom. I have just been talking to Augusta-"

Neville almost dropped his toad when Dumbledore referred to his grandmother by her first name.

"-and since your parents were both good friends, we decided that it might be best if Harry stayed with her for the summer. Of course, I called in a few favors, and-" Harry's jaw dropped as Dumbledore continued through the minutia. He would be staying with Neville. The two friends shared a bright grin.

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Harry had the most wonderful summer of his life that year. He traded letters with all his friends, and he and Neville celebrated a combined birthday. It had to be his second greatest birthday ever. Augusta Longbottom, on the other hand, was a strict and serious woman. She hadn't been pleased with Neville's Transfiguration grade but several of the other grades, like Defense and Herbology, at least made her content.

Harry had already known the truth about Neville's parents, but seeing it with Neville was sobering. Frank and Alice were inside a room at Saint Mungo's, their eyes open but not really _seeing_ anything. Harry was tempted to try legilimency on the two, but thought better of it. Neville never met Harry's eyes that day. Harry suspected he felt something like shame at the state of his parents. Harry was struggling to pin the emotion down.

Harry had to do a few chores around the house for room and board, but compared to the work he did at the Dursley's, it was extremely light and easy. Aside from that, he was allowed a large degree of freedom.

"You're not my grandson," Augusta had scowled. "Why should I care what you do?"

Harry was allowed to study his magic in peace within the room Mrs. Longbottom had granted him, and he and Neville spent their free time playing wizarding games of all sorts, like exploding snap. Harry also found the time to practice a little quidditch.

Harry once found himself listening for almost an hour about turkish soil types and a Nepalese wizard who was growing gravity resistant trees. At the thought, Harry's mind was filled with images of floating magical plants writhing in the air.

"What does that even mean? Gravity resistant?"

"Well the trees don't have to work as hard to move nutrients around, so they can grow taller and produce more fruit. He wants to apply it to other magical plants to increase stock of brewing supplies."

It sounded fairly complicated, and quite probably brilliant.

Harry loved it, the house was magical. It even had a house elf, called Batty, and the way it zipped around, taking care of everything Harry had once done at the Dursley's, was just wonderful.

Harry was visited by another House elf that summer, one that warned him not to go to Hogwarts but was chased away by Batty. Dobby was the house elf's name and when Harry described what had happened, Mrs. Longbottom didn't seem overly concerned. She assured him she would look into it and that he was, most certainly, returning to Hogwarts.

As if to confirm her assertion, he recieved his letter the next day, informing him about the books he would need. The list was rather long, with Gilderoy Lockhart's name dominating the paper. Neville's gran took Neville shopping in the alley earlier in the week, so Harry figured he was expected to do it on his own.

He apparated close to the alley with a crack and made his way down the promenade. Naturally, he stopped by Gringotts first to collect from his trust vault. It had been refilled from the other vaults the Goblins held in trust until he reached his majority, but Harry had barely scratched the gold inside. He didn't know how he could be expected spend so much money, but he started by buying new clothes and restocking his school supplies. He had started running low on quills after Daphne began to nick them for her project.

Harry spotted a familiar gaggle of red hair as he made his way towards Flourish and Blotts. The tallest brother, that he couldn't recall the name of, was immersed in a book, _Prefects Who Gained Power_ , and Harry eyed him for a moment.

 _He's ambitious, and at the very least dedicated to his tasks._

Harry spotted Ron Weasley with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. They had all bonded over their lack of dedication to school throughout the last year, and they were currently shoving their way inside the overcrowded shop.

Harry elected not to enter the bookstore, giving it a wide berth. He elected to wait until the shop emptied. Even the thought of being inside, so close to other people, where it would be hot and hard to breathe; it made him nauseous.

He put the bookstore out of mind and sat on a bench to wait the crowd out. He kept it that way, until a fist fight broke out inside. Two grown wizards were swinging their fists at one another like muggles. There was a clatter of metal and a cauldron full of books skidded out into the street from inside. A red-haired man wearing slightly ragged clothing was on top of a blond wizard, whose clothing was decidedly more refined.

"Get him Dad!"

"No, Arthur, no!"

The crowd stampeded backward, knocking over shelves and sending books flying everywhere.

"Gentlemen, please — please!" cried a new voice, Harry assumed it was the shop owner. The pale-haired man managed to get out from beneath the other. Harry saw Draco Malfoy standing idly by, smirking. The blonde man – Harry assumed Draco's father, Lucius – shoved something into Ginny's arms. Apparently, it was her cauldron that fell prey to the two men's struggle.

 _How many Weasleys are there?_

When Draco fell into step beside his father he saw Harry and stiffened, going slightly pale. Lucius noticed and took sight of Harry, sitting patiently. Harry supposed it might take even longer now until he could explore the book store.

Harry met Draco's eyes.

[Book…Father…Potter…]

He also the caught the memory of himself flinging Draco down a corridor. He felt it at the surface of Draco's mind and held it there.

"If it isn't, Harry Potter, the Boy Who-Lived." There was a sneer on Lucius' face. He somehow managed to sound both perfectly polite and perfectly condescending; it was… actually pretty impressive.

"You must be Lucius; your son speaks highly of you." Harry stood, walking forwards, offering his hand. His face was indifferent. Lucius scowled and pulled his son along with him, leaving Harry's hand extended.

"A fine example to set for your children…brawling in public…what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought-" He heard a woman complain.

"He was pleased. Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report; said it was all publicity."

Harry turned back towards the store, and the cluster of redheads standing amongst knocked over shelves. He picked up the cauldron and walked it towards the family. That's about when they noticed him, and their conversation promptly died.

Ron scrunched his face up, and the girl whose cauldron had been flung turned bright beat red as Harry walked up.

"Hello," Harry greeted, nodding to Ron, Dean, and Seamus politely. He offered Ginny her cauldron. "Out doing some school shopping?"

Ron scrunched up his face further. He probably wanted to say something malicious about Harry, but he couldn't with family around. After all, Harry had done nothing to antagonize him… yet. The other boy was the jealous and unsuccessful sort who wanted things, but was loath to work for them. He despised Harry's successes and fame.

Whatever Mrs. Weasley was going to say was drowned out by something behind them.

"It _can't_ be Harry Potter." A man was stepping towards Harry with a brilliant smile. Harry recognized him from his shopping list. The man was famous and approaching Harry quickly, so he took a step back.

"It was a pleasure," Harry hurriedly told the group in front of the entrance before stepping back into the alley. The crowd tried to part for the man, but there simply wasn't room with the collapsed shelves. Harry quickly walked down the street, turned a corner, and apparated away.

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As term drew closer, Harry found himself glad to be leaving for Hogwarts. A sort of nervous energy filled the air in the Longbottom household. Augusta Longbottom seemed to remind her son every few moments that she expected better grades from him, and would constantly lecture him on his father's successes.

When Harry and Neville arrived at King's Cross and attempted to get through the barrier onto the platform, they found that it wasn't functioning properly. A queue of witches and wizards began to form, attempting to get through, but none were successful, and a Ministry official had to be summoned. The man took some time fiddling with the barrier until they were able to enter again.

The two boys found Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione in a compartment already and took his seat. Tracey was so excited she was vibrating. Harry kept giving her owl worried glances; her excitement was shaking the poor thing's cage. Tracey told stories about what she and Daphne had done together over the summer for almost half an hour while they waited to depart.

"So, what happened to you guys? Why was the train delayed, did you know that this marks the first time in a hundred and fifty years that's happened?"

"One hundred and fifty-six," corrected Hermione. It was likely her who had informed them, given her encyclopedic knowledge of _Hogwarts, A History_.

"The barrier malfunctioned, and we couldn't get through." Neville explained "A bunch of other families got trapped behind us and we had to wait for the Ministry to fix it. They were talking about obliviating the muggles because of what they saw.".

Harry caught up with Daphne on her next enchanting project, which actually involved the both of them.

She held up a small circular mirror, the size of her palm.

"I want to enchant a set, so that two or more people can communicate through it. Think of how useful it would be. If you had one when you followed Quirrell, you could have called us for help."

He gave her a look; she really needed to let that one go. He could, however, see the uses.

"How were you planning on doing it?"

"Well ideally, you'd say the name of the person you wanted to talk to, and it would connect you. They could hear it and they'd answer."

He frowned. It was complex.

"You want to be able to see the other person through the mirror as well, don't you?"

She nodded.

It would require separate auditory and visual connections from each mirror to the others. They might be able to modify a password spell for activating the different enchantments where the password was the name of the person you wanted to speak to. But, that would require entirely separate connections between each mirror and the others. It would work, but it was a clumsy solution.

"Did you want to use a password charm?" He asked her after a moment of rubbing his jaw.

She bit her lip. "I did…"

She had already considered the issues he was thinking of.

"You want to make a single hub that connects through then?" That was… fairly bright. It would only require a single connection from each mirror to the hub rather than from each mirror to each and every other mirror.

She nodded.

"How did you know?"

 _I read your mind and it was easy to guess._

"It's a better solution than separate connections. I would have recommended it."

They spit-balled ideas on how to make a working hub that would connect with all the other mirrors.

"The problem with that is that only one person could be using the mirrors at time."

"We could just do two hubs, but I suppose that has the same issue of a large number of enchantments, as enchanting them separately," she conceded.

The muggle towns rolled away as the group caught up with one another. They changed, and when the engine pulled in they unloaded unto the horse drawn carriages which took the older students up to the castle. This was the first time Harry got to see the sorting from an outside perspective, and watched it with interest from the Ravenclaw table. Lisa was sitting next to him, and after they exchanged greetings, promised to catch up properly after the sorting. Dumbledore's speech was as odd as ever, and the feast was delicious as always.

"Well, we went to the United States to visit some family. My parents wanted to see the place where they captured Grindelwald."

Harry looked at her, his knowledge of the Great War was fuzzy at best.

She must have noticed and seemed happy to take the role of the lecturer. "Well, Grindelwald went to the United States to look for something. The Americans captured him and were going to imprison him in Azkaban – the prison used by the British ministry and infamous for the use of Dementors as guards – but he escaped before they could. He broke out of a lot of places until Dumbledore put him in Nurmengard."

"I don't know much about the Great War," he confessed. "I'm much more familiar with the Muggles' World War II."

Lisa nodded, happy to explain, she was grinning.

[I finally get to teach _him_ something for once.]

"My mother is a witch and my father's a muggle so I know about both of them. So, Grindelwald was kicked out of Durmstrang, even though he was the best student they ever had. He still holds several academic records there, and he carved his symbol into the halls before he left." Harry nodded. He knew most of that.

"He built up followers in Germany and allied with the German muggles, wanting to destroy the Statute of Secrecy, he thought it was abominable that wizards and witches had to hide from muggles. He went to the US looking for something, but nobody knows what. There's all kinds of theories that he was looking for a weapon of some kind, but no one is certain. The Americans somehow brought him down and tried to imprison him, but he broke out. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he killed thousands of wizards in the US."

Harry hadn't known that. "He went to the States and never tried to invade Britain?" That didn't seem right.

Lisa nodded, "They say he was afraid of Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was just teaching Transfiguration here at the time. He was talented, but he hadn't become the greatest wizard of our age yet."

When the feast ended, the Ravenclaw prefects held up the first-years in the Hall for a few minutes while the older students went up, so the younger students could have their chance to open the knocker. Harry was thrilled to be back, though, he intended to steal away to the Restricted Section at the first opportunity. He now had a mental shopping list that he wanted to check out.

He made sure to inform Lisa of where he was going this time, so she wouldn't think he was going behind her back. She wasn't pleased about letting him go after what happened last year.

"What? You think I'm going to run into Voldemort again? I'm just going to take a few books and come right back, alright? It won't even take an hour."

"Fine, but I get to go with you."

He blanched. "What?"

"You said your clock could fit several people, so we're going together."

He groaned, having already read her and knowing she wasn't going to relent.

"Fine, alright. Meet me down here at midnight. If you don't show up, I'm leaving without you." She smiled brightly and accepted.

As promised, he stole away with her under the cloak after silencing their feet. He hoped Filch would be too tired to be on the lookout on the first night back, but Peeves was still a menace that Harry needed to keep an eye out for. Eventually, they made it to the Library. Lisa, who had looked nervous before, was much more so now.

"Won't they notice some books missing?"

Harry shook his head. "I took several from here last year, Dumbledore knew but he didn't scold me or anything."

They crept over the divider between the restricted section and the rest of the library.

Once they were through Lisa, glanced around timidly. She reached out for one of the books that had a dark stain on it and read _The Talents of Herpo the Foul_.

Harry grabbed her wrist before she could touch it, making her squeal in surprise.

"Don't touch any of the books, alright? Especially the ones that talk."

"What!" She squeaked.

[They talk?]

"Shhh!"

"Sorry." She looked around, she could hear it now.

[I should have just let him go. I don't want to be here.]

"We'll be back up in just a second."

Her anxiety was spreading to him through the contact, so he receded into his own mind and calmed himself.

He kneeled down and pulled _Peace and Quiet_ off the bottom shelf and continued forward to the next book he had chosen. He snagged _The Alchemical Properties of Blood_ and _The Sixth Element of Witchcraft_.

"Are those all that you wanted?"

"No, there's a few more."

He grabbed _The Subtle Legilimens_ and _The Introduction to Augeomency_ from the mind arts section, then _Nonfatal Curses_.

She looked at him.

"D-do you r-really want a-all those books, or-r are you trying to scare me in-into not c-co-coming again?" Her voice was shaking. He sighed.

[Was Terry Boot right about Harry?]

He stiffened at her thought, face twitching. He cleared his mind as quickly as possible.

"I want to be a great wizard, Lisa, I need to know about magic," he explained slowly and softly, careful to keep parseltongue from entering his words. "All magic."

She looked at him dreadfully.

"I guarantee Dumbledore has read every one of these books. So why shouldn't I?"

She shook her head. "He's Dumbledore and-"

"I'm just a twelve-year-old."

She brought her hands to her face and scrunched her face into her fists.

"I have to know about it. Look here, _Nonfatal Curses_. I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to study magic."

He felt her accept his words slightly and he swallowed back his anger.

It was a half-truth, though, _Nonfatal Curses_ was full of dangerous and powerful spells. It's just that none of them would _kill_ you outright if you were on the wrong end. Well, some of them could eventually, and in the right circumstances, but there was nothing outright lethal like blood-boiling or entrail-expelling curses.

"Come on, let's go."

They hurried back to the tower, and Harry told a frightful Lisa goodnight. The trip to the restricted section seemed to scare her more than Harry would have thought.

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"How was your summer, Harry?" Said Michael Corner, sitting next to him at the Ravenclaw table. To Harry's right, Lisa was rubbing her eyes sleepily, her friends firing Harry nervous glances.

 _She got caught._

[She was out with _him_.]

[What were they doing out the first day back?]

Mandy Brocklehurst and Su Li had never been the most suspicious of him, but him taking their friend out on the first night of the year seemed to unsettle them. He sighed mentally.

"It was relaxing, but I'm glad to be back."

Michael nodded, he was a Ravenclaw and could easily understand the desire to return to school.

"Did you do anything interesting?" Harry asked the other boy.

"Nah, I mostly just read my summer away."

Harry gave him an honest, wistful look.

He didn't have a moment to continue because Professor Flitwick arrived handing out schedules. He had Defense against the Dark arts first thing with the Slytherins, soat least he could look forward to Daphne and Tracey. He stood up and left the table.

He opened his mouth to ask how Michael's parents were doing, knowing full well, from the boy's mind, that his mother was a talented Potioneer and had was going to publish a process for refining Essence of Dittany from the seeds of the plant, when there was a flash of light.

Harry came up short, startled and blinked. One of the new Ravenclaws was staring at Harry as though transfixed. He was clutching an old muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him he turned bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm – I'm Colin Creevey." He was breathless. "I'm in Ravenclaw just like you. I just wanted a picture of you."

Bloody hell, the kid asked the hat to put him in Ravenclaw just to be near Harry.

 _I've never had a stalker before._

"Why would you want a picture of me?"

Michael shot harry a disbelieving look.

[Because you're bloody Harry Potter.]

Alright, so it was a dumb question.

"So, I can prove I've met you," Colin said eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me; about how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you, and how he disappeared and everything, and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead." His eyes raked Harry's hairline, and Harry's hands almost twitched to his chest for his wand.

 _The trauma curse would scare him off._

He shook his head. No. Bad Harry, Dumbledore is watching. He trusted him to use that access responsibly.

"And a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move!" Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic 'till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So, I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him, and I thought it'd be really good if I had one of you. Would you sign it?"

 _No._

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" The Slytherins, of course. It was Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Pansy and Millicent were behind the boys, while Tracey and Daphne stood behind them. Zabini looked fairly confident, but Draco seemed nervous.

 _If one of them shoots a spell at me first…_

"Everyone should line up! Gather around!" Harry reached slowly for his wand, and Draco took a step back. Harry wanted to grin.

"No photos," he said softly, stepping towards the Slytherin boys. Draco and his bodyguards stepped back. Nott looked at Draco and scoffed. Blaise chuckled lightly but neither of them backed down.

 _Trying to make a name for yourself in Slytherin?_

He crept into the boy's mind. Adding rage and anger and mixing it with confidence. Nott drew his wand and Harry opened his arms in invitation. Michael stepped away from Harry, but the boy ignored it. Lisa and her friends came up the steps with Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot.

 _Do it._

Harry added fuel with legilimency, stirring up the boy's emotions.

The other boy raised his wand. "You think you're so great ever since you took Malfoy down, don't you Potter? But he's hardly a duelist. Someone should educate you."

 _Please, I need to practice some spells. This is education._

Then he struck a match.

"By all means. We're supposed to bow, I believe, before a duel."

Nott scoffed, and Harry lit the flame.

He reached out with his free hand and gestured, pushing Nott into a bow with his wandless magic, it was a continuous shoving magical push. It wasn't neatly done, and it wasn't refined in any sense of the word, but it worked. The boy leaned most of the way over and stumbled closer to Harry, in what might have been generously considered a bow.

The boy looked back up furiously.

[How dare he?! I'll set the arrogant bastard on fire!]

Nott wasn't doing half measures. Harry shoved Michael and Colin further out of the way while Nott raised his wand again, already recovered. Harry subtly waved his wand at Colin's camera as he gave the boy a push, intending to destroy the film. He heard a sparking noise from it and assumed he'd at least done something to it. Magic and muggle electronics were a dangerous game.

" _Incendio_!"

Tracey gasped, and Lisa looked downright horrified.

" _Protego_." He sheltered himself from the flames behind a slightly blue and translucent shield charm which caught the fire.

Nott looked surprised.

 _Idiot. In this pond you're a small fish._

Harry twisted his wand in an aggressive curling and jabbing motion.

" _Traumino,_ " he whispered quietly, only allowing the spell to act for a moment. " _Finite. Flippendo._ " The last one he incanted _much_ louder.

The boy had dropped his wand staring at Harry in horror. Harry drank the emotion in before he flung the boy a few more meters further than he had even thrown Malfoy.

The boy was gasping and wheezing on the ground, attempting to crawl away from Harry. That made him frown, he had hoped for a stronger effect; less simple fear, and more pants-wetting terror.

He looked at Zabini invitingly, the boy had taken a step back when Harry preformed wandless magic and was gaping at the feat.

"How about you?" Harry asked his tone was polite and soft. "Care to teach me a lesson?"

The boy shook his head jerkily.

He looked down. Colin's camera was a mess, but he was looking up at Harry with awe.

 _Not my proudest move._

"T-Thanks," the boy stammered.

Harry smiled gently, cursing on the inside. He would do something else to scare Colin away.

" _Reparo._ " The camera came back together. "You should ask in the future before taking someone's photo, alright? Don't do it again." Harry let Parseltongue slip a little into his last few words. The boy quickly nodded.

 _Leave me alone, Colin, or I'll use my freaky mind powers on you._

Harry looked over to see Daphne and Tracey. A quick glance in their eyes revealed they were impressed but not afraid. They hadn't seen the curse. He looked at Lisa, and she was more horrified for Harry's sake, rather than horrified at what he had done. It all looked like self-defense.

[Maybe Harry was right…]

Harry felt relieved; that was one less problem. He got what he wanted, and unless Dumbledore or Snape spent a great deal of time in the boy's memories, he was fine on that end.

Harry turned and continued his way to defense.

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After a few moments, Michael caught up and asked, "How long have you been able to do the shield charm?"

"I used it at the end of last year for credit in Charms."

"So _that's_ how you got first." There was a moment. "You know, I heard that Colin's not your only fan. Evidently some Gryffindor first year has a huge crush on you."

Harry felt bewildered. "Whoever they are, they've never even met me."

Michael laughed. "You better watch out, they might form a Harry Potter fan club together."

Harry didn't have to fake a groan. He pushed open the door to the Defense classroom and Michael took the seat next to him.

Lisa's friends encouraged her to sit next to them, and Anthony and Terry Boot sat in front of Harry and Michael. Daphne and Tracey plopped down on Harry's other side.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Terry Boot's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at his image and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award - but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly. "I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in." When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start - now!"

Harry looked down at his paper and read:

 **1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?**

 **2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?**

 **3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?**

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

 **54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?**

 _Oh my god. We're two for two on nutjobs._

Harry could only glance up at the man in disbelief. Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut — hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey!"

The Professor bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm. I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

Lockhart whipped off the cover. "Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

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When the man idiotically released the Cornish Pixies, Daphne immobilized them with the freezing charm as they rushed out. It was a well-cast spell, very fast too. He told her as much and she turned slightly pink. She was talented with her charms. Harry felt a strong desire to test the _reducto_ curse on clump of pixies that were frozen at the exit of the cage.

After listening to Professor Lockhart's attempt to save face for a few minutes, the bell rang and it was time for lunch. After that, they replanted mandrakes in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout, and, while good, Michael was not half the herbology partner Neville was and Harry felt his decent ranking in the class slipping away.

After dinner he found his way the room where he practiced magic last year and sighed. Daphne was already waiting for him when he arrived.

"You are so teaching me the shield charm." Harry believed Daphne when she said it and spent some time demonstrating the wand movement and the concepts behind the charm.

" _Protego_ ," she attempted again. " _Protego_!"

"Now you're just shouting."

"Well what would you recommend?!" She was incensed.

He pointed his wand at her, saying, " _Expelliarmus_." He spoke slowly in order to give her time to realize what he was planning.

" _Protego_ ," she said desperately. She managed a shimmering barrier that he shattered. He caught her wand.

She gave him a heated look. "So what? What was I doing wrong that made you shoot a spell at me?"

"You had nothing to protect, so your intent to protect something wasn't present when you tried to cast." He returned her wand. "Let's do it again."

It took her a few more attempted, but she managed a weak-looking silvery barrier that managed to repel some of his hexes.

He looked at her for a moment. Trying to read what was going through her head.

"You've been fairly short with me today."

"Hmmm." It was noncommittal and aggressive, all at once.

[I can't believe he showed her his cloak before me.]

She was upset over that? That he showed Lisa his cloak first? It seemed small, but he believed he could find a resolution. He would just offer to let her study some of the enchantments on the cloak with him.

"What did I-"

Tracey came rushing in. "Sorry, I was just sending a letter to my dad, he wanted to make sure I was alright. You know how parents worr-eeeep."

He gave her a mock glare before doing a one-eighty and chuckling at the faux pas. She swung at him but missed when he stepped back.

"It's not funny." He was still laughing when she said it.

"She's right, it isn't." Daphne was looking at him speculatively. "You always laugh when something like that happens. People are worried they offend you and you just laugh."

He stopped chuckling. "So what? I'm an orphan." Tracey flinched at his words. He looked at her. "Well, I am. Walking on eggshells around me about it won't bring them back, and someone talking about their own parents won't kill them again."

Tracey and Daphne shared a look. "So, you don't care about your parents?" Daphne asked cautiously.

He felt indignant now. "That's not what I said."

"It's what you implied!" Daphne pushed. Tracey nodded her agreement, still looking a little red.

"I just meant that it's okay. I've had time to accept that I'm an orphan."

"Stop saying that!"

"Why should I?"

"It's callous!"

"It's true. I have no parents. I am an orphan. That's what the word means."

"So you've just accepted that they're gone? Just like that?"

"I have had years to get used to it!" When was the last time he raised his voice to her? Or the last time, period?

"I've had years to get used to my Dad being gone, and _I_ haven't gotten used to it!" Daphne was snarling at this point, and Harry took it as a sign to clear his mind. Daphne never talked about her late father, but Harry knew that it affected her deeply that he was gone. He had been a strong man who loved his children more than anything else. He died when she was eight and she hadn't gotten used to living without him.

Furthermore, it put her family at risk with no lord to act for them. Their family gold had been swallowed up by other pureblood families and they had no way to truly negotiate and no access to some of their family magics. The Greengrass family would die with Daphne and her sister.

He took a moment. She was fuming and in his face. "I never knew them. I didn't lose anything like you did. It's not the same."

She looked close to tears and promptly stormed out. Tracey followed her with an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

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" _Friendship is one mind and two bodies" - Mencius_

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 **Little drama here. Harry's character develops, we learn more about Daphne.**

 **I liked this last quote. Though I don't think this situation is quite what Mencius had in mind.**

 **No Luna Lovegood yet so stay hyped.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **WG**

Edited 1/31/18


	5. The Chariot

_Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

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 _"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." –Aristotle_

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Harry went to the table in the library he usually used and found Hermione already sitting there. She gave him a flat look. "First day back and you're already dueling in the corridors."

Harry frowned. "You heard about that?"

"Everyone's heard about it. You could have been gentler with him. Half the first years are terrified of you now."

"All I did was use the knockback hex."

"That's all?" She blinked. "I heard that Nott was positively terrified of you."

"Well, I used the shield charm to defend myself from Nott's fire spel,l but otherwise, yeah? Just that. What did you hear I used?"

She flushed "That doesn't matter. What electives are you taking next year? I couldn't decide. I wanted to take all of them, unfortunately I couldn't fit them into my timetable. Arithmancy and Runes are a must, but magical creatures sounds interesting and divination is supposed to be relatively easy. I suppose-"

"You thought I used dark magic on him."

She worried her bushy hair for a moment with her fingers, making him sigh. "What did Lisa tell you?"

"You know it's creepy when you do that. You always seem to figure things out with just a little information."

"Hermione, you can tell me how creepy I am in a minute."

"Fine. She told me you took some books from the library. She mentioned _Nonfatal Curses_ and I looked the book up."

"And?" He prompted.

"Well the curses inside are just non-lethal, that doesn't mean safe, they just don't kill. Some of them are used for torture."

"Hermione," he said, using a sterner tone. "Voldemort will know these spells. I have to know them to be able to counter them. I have to." He paused. What was the best way to reach through to her? "Dumbledore knows, by the way. He knows I've been pilfering that section."

"Dumbledore knows you've been reading those books?" She tugged on her hair a little more and her mouth straightened into a line. "Well… I suppose if Dumbledore trusts you…"

"See Hermione, it's perfectly understandable. Now, I was planning on taking arithmancy and runes as well."

She smiled brighter. "I know you'll beat me in them, Hermione; now, what is this about me being creepy?"

She gave him an indignant harrumph before turning back to her Herbology text.

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It wasn't hard for him to track down Neville. The boy had brought his cactus with him to school and needed a place to store it. Professor Sprout was all too eager to allow her prodigy his special project.

Harry walked into the greenhouse and simply waited for the boy to finish mixing soil for his plant. When Neville did finally turn around, he jumped.

"H-Harry. What are y-you doing here?"

"Well I was hoping you'd tell me what was bothering you. You were withdrawn back at your gran's, and you didn't meet Hermione and me for studying."

"Well I th-thought that you wouldn't study with me, now that we're not in Herbology together anymore. Everyone knows I'm not much of a wizard. I-I can't do anything much, except for plants."

Mostly untrue. It had been a concern of Neville's, but it wasn't the boy's priority.

Harry just waited patiently, letting Neville grow more and more uncomfortable. "You still want to be friends, even after seeing my parents?"

Harry nodded and smiled at Neville – he didn't need more than someone who would stand by him, at least right now – and Neville gave a weak smile back. "It's a little late Nev, but I figured tomorrow we could meet up and you could help me with my Herbology essay. The one for the mandrakes. I'm a bit lost for which soil type is most beneficial for healthy growth when the adolescent mandrakes are developing. I'll show you the shield charm in return, if you want me to."

Neville nodded again, still quiet. There was no quick solution to Neville's problems; he himself would have to work at them. After saying goodbye, Harry left for Ravenclaw tower.

When he arrived, he plopped down in chair next to Lisa, who was so engrossed in her book she hadn't seen him come in.

"Hey Lisa." She jumped, and he gave a little chuckle.

"It's not funny," she whispered. It was normal to be quiet in the common room during this hour. In earlier hours it was perfectly acceptable to be loud, but after 7:00 it was expected that others would be studying or having debates. There were no debates tonight, but Harry had heard they would start at the end of the week about Professor Lockhart, over whether he was a decent teacher.

"Did you know, everyone wants you to give a lecture on what happened with Quirrell last year." Harry didn't, but also didn't particularly care.

"That knowledge belongs to my friends."

"Knowledge belongs to everyone." Michael sat down.

Harry sighed, "Then how does your mother make money developing potions? Congratulations, by the way. Furthermore, why aren't our school books free?"

Michael frowned but didn't have a good answer, so he considered Harry's point before rejecting it.

"Knowledge _should_ belong to everyone." Harry nodded his approval. It was better, but not perfect. Not all knowledge and not just to anyone, but basic educational knowledge should be. Here and now wasn't the time for debate, however. He turned to his book, it was _The Introduction to Augeomency_ under a glamor, so he was able to read it in public instead of hiding off on his own. At least, here in the safety of the Ravenclaw common room. If he tried in the library Hermione would demand to know more about it.

"Did you hear about the new girl?" It was Lisa.

Harry hadn't, but he didn't particularly care about new students after Colin. He shook his head, eyes not leaving the book.

"She's a bit barmy from what I heard," Michael replied over Harry. It was like having another Tracey around. Not that he didn't like Tracey, but much like any one of his friends, their eccentricities could get on Harry's nerves.

"Is that all you guys do? Gossip? Hermione was waiting in the library to lecture me about my duel earlier today." It had been all of five hours since the duel had happened and it now seemed to be common knowledge.

"I heard her dad runs an odd magazine company," Michael said, ignoring Harry.

"Dumbledore is also a bit barney too," Harry pointed out, playing devil's advocate.

"Yeah, but that's Dumbledore," Lisa countered.

"So great wizards are allowed to be off their rocker?" Harry asked.

"Well it is a bit different for him to say a few strange things at the start of the year than for some Loony first-year girl."

They sat in companionable silence for a few hours before Michael called it and went to the dorms. It was then that Lisa looked at Harry.

"I heard about Daphne."

 _Good Lord._

"Gossiping again? You also told Hermione about the books."

She shrunk back. "I didn't think I wasn't supposed to."

He sighed. "Sorry, she just grilled me. You know how she is."

She nodded. "It's okay. What are you planning to do about Daphne?"

He snorted. "Daphne will come back to me on her own time. She wanted to work on a new set of quills and she'll give the mirrors her best shot before she gets stuck and comes to ask me for help."

Lisa looked worried. "You're just going to ignore it?"

"Daphne knows where to find me."

"You're not even going to try and talk to her, you're just giving up."

Harry shot her an annoyed look, but she didn't shrink away this time.

"Waiting isn't the same as giving up, Lisa."

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

The Gryffindor Quidditch team had booked the pitch as soon as possible the first week back and promptly had some sort of brawl with the Slytherins, so Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had to deal with the two rival houses and their petty power plays.

Colin hadn't asked Harry for a signature, nor even a photograph after the third day, despite Harry being "the youngest player in a hundred years!" which Harry found delightful. Harry had been in the library with Neville and Hermione when the boy had come up to Harry and asked if it was true that he hexed people who interrupted his studying. Harry affirmed that it was true and pointed his wand at the first year, causing him to scuttle off. Hermione had hit Harry with a heavy book about Transfiguration for that, but it had finally gotten rid of Harry's over-talkative shadow.

Of course, something so good meant Harry's weekend had to be spectacularly ruined. After Harry helped Neville practice some spells, he found Hermione out in the courtyard sitting alone. He could instantly feel that she was upset, so he moved forward and sat next to her. She was rubbing her eyes, which were slightly red and puffy.

 _I've been doing damage control all week._

He didn't say anything for a while. He just sat next to her and waited until she was ready. When she was she started talking about trying to convince her head of house she could take all the classes she wanted to next year, Harry just waited until she petered out.

"What happened, Hermione."

She sniveled once. "It was Malfoy he-" She choked slightly. "He called me a mudblood. I didn't even know what that meant. I didn't know there was persecution in the wizarding world like that."

Harry pulled back into himself. Malfoy needed another round of headaches and Harry was now able to push a _lot_ deeper than before.

"He said I didn't deserve magic, tha-that I should just go back to the muggle world." Her sinuses seemed congested from her sadness. Harry hesitated, then put an arm around her to guide her back to the practice room. He locked the door with a charm and waited for her to calm down again.

"Thank you, Harry."

"You know. I suspect that Malfoy's father wasn't pleased you outscored his son. I'm willing to bet that's why he went and sought you out."

She nodded. She looked like she was feeling much better, but they still sat quietly for what must have been another half an hour. Hermione didn't want to go out into the rest of the castle yet, so they spent time practicing their latest transfigurations.

Harry needed to find a way to make Malfoy afraid of him again. He would have thought that his duel with Nott would have done the trick, but evidently the brat had found a new source of bravado. It would have to be snuffed out.

When he returned to the common room, he found Lisa reading in the corner. "I'm going out again tonight under the cloak. I figured you'd want to know."

She breathed deeply. "Getting some more reading material?"

He shook his head. "Just returning some; they were too advanced. I need to study runes and arithmancy more."

It was true, though it hurt his pride to admit it. _The Alchemy of Blood_ and _Sixth Element of Witchcraft_ described the properties of blood magic and, though he understood the basic elements of using blood as a powerful magical medium or a focus to bind certain magics, it was well out of his league to understand some of the actual steps necessary to achieve any of that.

"You're just returning some?" Her eyes were suspicious.

He nodded, and she sighed.

"You know you don't have to come," he offered, pre-empting her thoughts.

She nodded and gave a little huff. "Fine. You don't need a babysitter anyway."

Harry grinned. Maybe he could get one book. He had made healthy progress through the others.

Daphne did not come by later and Harry found himself more restless because of that, despite Quidditch practice starting up again. She was avoiding him a lot more than he had believed she would. She was giving him the full silent treatment and was dragging Tracey along too.

"You know you need to go talk to her," Lisa told him one day in the library.

"You really have to do it before it's too late." Hermione was trying to be diplomatic. "Besides, you miss working with her on enchantments and teaching her shortcuts with the spells."

He opened his mouth to tell her there were no shortcuts for spell work.

"Tracey told me she's waiting for you to talk to her." God, it was like a tennis match.

"Won't she just come back on her own?" Harry found he struggled to predict Daphne's behavior now that he didn't have access to her mind. Hermione just gave him a flat look.

"No. You have to go talk to her, show her what your friendship means."

"But I didn't do anything!"

Hermione hit him with a book, Lisa scoffed, and Neville gave harry a nervous thumbs-up.

He looked at Neville. "You're supposed to have my back."

Neville put his other thumb up and grinned sheepishly.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

He resolved to hunt Daphne down, which involved waiting in a different section of the library than he normally did; near the enchantments. Sure enough, she turned up and approached the section where she could find the auditory linking charms for the mirrors. It didn't take her long to notice the book was missing. Harry had been content to wait for her to show up even if it took all weekend, which was why he fortified himself with a restricted book and several others on spell theory.

He still hadn't finished creating a new spell, and it was creeping up his priorities list. It seemed like all the good spell ideas were taken, so he didn't know what to work on next. Last year, he settled on making a spell which would force the victim to spin one hundred and eighty degrees. Sure, it wasn't particularly useful or complex, but he had made it, and he would be lying if he said even creating such a simple spell had been easy.

He began working on his second spell when Daphne showed up to find her missing book. It was on Harry's table.

"Hey, Daphne." He held the book up, waggling it. She turned to looked at him and her nostrils flared. She made to leave but he hit her with his new spell and she quickly found herself facing him again. She huffed.

"Are you just going to keep hexing me?"

He shrugged. "Not if you have a seat."

"Well I don't see why I would."

He wiggled the book again.

"You'll have to return it eventually."

He sighed. "Come on Daphne, I've missed practicing with you and working on enchantments with you. Come and talk to me."

Her shoulders seemed to slump. "I missed you too."

"I also brought this." It was a folded-up bundle of liquidy silver.

"Your father's cloak?"

He nodded, and after a moment's consideration, she consented to sit in the chair. "What spell did you hit me with, anyway?"

He smiled. "I haven't named it yet."

"You invented a spell?"

He nodded. "I started last year. It's not easy at all, but…"

"Great wizards do it, and you want to be a great wizard."

He frowned. "You guys have really been talking."

She snorted.

There was a beat of silence. "Look, Daphne, I should have been more considerate about your loss; just because it doesn't bother me doesn't mean it doesn't bother you.

She shook her head. "It wasn't about my father really." He gave her an astonished look. "Well it was, but it wasn't. It also wasn't about the cloak."

"How do you guys have time to talk this much? I'm always around some of you."

She glared at him, but he knew she was resisting a smile. " _Anyway_ , I just don't see how you could be over your parents' deaths so easily. Especially with how hard I've struggled."

"Well, I did have more time." She glared at him more earnestly.

"What? It's true."

"That's what everyone says, you know? 'Give it time.' or 'It'll hurt less as time goes on.' or my favorite: 'All wounds heal with time.' I've _given_ it time. It's just not working."

He was glad they were off the subject of him, but he was in uncharted territory regarding her emotions.

"Maybe time isn't the answer." She looked at him. "What? He loved you and he's not coming back, time won't solve that." He said without any cruelty. "Just like my parents won't." Her lips quivered slightly, and he realized that this was the weakest that he had ever seen her.

"Time won't heal you, maybe. Maybe I had it easier because I never knew them."

"But your parents loved you!"

"I know that!" He almost snapped. He breathed. "It's abstract to me. I never got to sit on my father's lap or be kissed goodnight by mother. At least, not that I remember. So how could I miss it? It's just far more nebulous to me."

Daphne sniffled.

 _What is with this month?_

"Daphne?"

"What do you think happens when you die, Harry?" Harry looked at her. Did she want his honest opinion, or some white lie? He realized she didn't know what she wanted him to say.

"I think when we die it's over for us, our souls don't appear to do anything more than fade away when they are outside of our bodies."

She nodded and cried. He muffled their area, reaching out to squeeze her hand. She looked up at him and they sat together for a long while.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Tracey was ecstatic to find he and Daphne were talking again. She had a lot to get off her chest.

"You know that Daphne was all mopey waiting for you to come talk to her. I was worried that you wouldn't, but I managed to talk to Lisa and Hermione."

 _It was her!_

"Of course, I heard about what Draco said to Hermione, and Nott is too terrified to go anywhere near you. I thought you beat him pretty thoroughly, but he seems to be seriously going over the top with it. Draco's just been avoiding you completely. He must have realized you might be furious about what he said to Hermione. What are you going to do to him when you catch him? Do you have a plan?"

 _Well, I can't try and lobotomize him with my mind. Dumbledore might not approve._

"Draco is Slytherin's seeker now, right?"

"Oh yeah, he totally bought his way on the team. They have a bunch of new Nimbus 2001s. Isn't Ravenclaw's first match against Slytherin this year? Do you have something planned? Are you going to knock him out of the air with your crazy wandless magic? You know everyone was talking about that, right? It was bloody amazing! You had Nott under your thumb, waving your hand and everything, and then you just took him out. Say, will you teach me some of your dueling spells?"

She was waiting for an answer this time.

He nodded. "Of course."

"Really? That's great! I wanted to learn the shield charm, and Daphne treid to teach me a little. Then she started throwing spells at me and I panicked, so it didn't work. She said it was how you taught her." Harry looked over at Daphne. She was pretending to study his cloak, but was actually just running her fingers through the fluid cloth and watching parts of her body turn invisible. He chuckled.

"Well that method won't work for you." He turned back towards Tracey. "Daphne's intent was all wrong, so she couldn't focus correctly." Daphne looked up at him with a huff.

"what do you mean I was 'unfocus-'"

"Right, let's see your shield charm first. Don't be aggravated with it if it doesn't come right away. Hermione's been trying to do it all year to compete with me, and she hasn't gotten it yet either. I suspect Daphne's talent with charms was the reason for her success."

"And you're Harry Potter, so of course you succeed." Tracey giggled.

"Naturally. Now let's see your charm."

"You're going to be a lot less thrilled when I beat your grade in charms this year, Harry." Daphne glowered at him.

Harry doubted that she would. He was already practicing several third-year charms, like _carpe retractum_ and the cheering charm. His mastery over the disarming charm was also fairly impressive, but she didn't need to know any of that.

"I saw that look! You don't think I can, do you?"

"Why don't you practice your inanimate to animate transfiguration, Daphne? That way you can beat me in two classes."

He gestured at Tracey to show him her charm as she snorted. He read her mind as she performed it to measure her intent. She only generated wisps of yellow light.

"I know it's not the right color but-"

"-The color is fine, it's irrelevant."

Tracey giggled. "Daphne practiced for hours to get hers the same color as yours."

Daphne glared at her friend.

"She didn't have to; her shield was fine. Anyways, let's see your wand movement again."

Harry recommended an extra flicking motion with her wrist, his studies on spell creation had taught him that longer wand movements could help form more powerful spells because there was more time for the caster to focus their magic. The extra twist was to make her shield slightly smaller. She simply couldn't power a full body shield without more practice.

She tried again a few more times with Harry's encouragement, and formed a shield that was only a half meter by a half meter but was most definitely a shield. The yellowish quality had lightened somewhat, but it was still there.

"I did it! Thank you so much Harry! Wha-"

"How did you know those things would help?" Daphne stepped forward looking with interest.

He explained his theory and its basics from spell creation, and Daphne started to nod along.

"But I had the ability to form a bigger shield, and I'm not more magically powerful than Tracey is."

"It's true, our hexes usually land with the same power, we compare when we learned them and we had time this weekend. It's not an exact measurement but it's close isn't it?"

"You will be able to once you practice more. With consistent practice ,in a week or so, get rid of the extra flick and you'll be able to do it fine. Daphne was able to do it because she is talented in the field, Hermione won't manage it for some time longer, at least another month if I had to wager, because she wants to do it on her own, but she doesn't have the magical 'muscle memory' to make it happen."

Tracey frowned. "At least I'm a better potioneer than you, she told Daphne, who simply scoffed.

"I believe I came in right behind Harry last year."

"It's not my fault I got nervous! My hand was shaking!"

He let them settle into their argument.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Daphne asked him several questions about how he would enchant the mirrors. He had been working on the project a little. He decided to change it slightly so that it worked by borrowing from the scrying ritual, except with the points connected. It was a more elegant method than passwords and several different charms tied to each mirror.

When October came, everything was interrupted. Filch's cat was petrified and the mysterious Chamber of Secrets had evidently been opened. Harry was the first suspect of the entire school, what with the way he scared away Colin and could speak parseltongue. It was obviously Harry despite, the fact he had a close muggleborn friend and that he had been at the feast along with everyone else.

Neville and Hermione suspected Malfoy, but Daphne and Tracey assured them that he was at the feast too.

"There's no way that moron is heir to one of the greatest sorcerers of his time!" Tracey explained in a strop when it came up. "He just wants everyone to think that he knows who did it. He has some stupid little package he keeps shaking. He said his father gave it to him, as a gift to the heir of Slytherin, but nobody buys it. Well, except his lackeys and his followers."

"Malfoy has followers?" Neville asked.

"His father has sycophants," Daphne elucidated. "Not quite the same."

Harry had been getting ready for the quidditch match on top of everything. He found he was getting better at juggling his friends, personal studies, schoolwork, and Quidditch. Lockhart was ever-eager to give Harry advice on being a seeker, but Harry avoided the man like the plague that he was.

Of course, when quidditch came around it was all up to him. His teammates would be constantly on the defensive and so Harry would have to try and score as soon as possible.

"It's all down to you Harry," Roger Davis told him with a lopsided smile. "No pressure."

When they kicked off Harry immediately flew up to find the snitch quickly. He squinted, searching the ground, stands and sky, and when Malfoy aimed to dart past Harry to show off the new broom, Harry dived at the same time. Malfoy's panic and their slight distance to the ground meant Malfoy was swerving to avoid hitting him. The manoeuvre almost put Malfoy in the ground.

"I'm going to burry you, Malfoy," he told the twat evenly. "Daddy can't save you here."

A bludger flew at Harry and he rolled backwards to avoid it, spinning neatly through the air. Instead of going after the nearest target, Malfoy, the thing changed direction until it pelted after him. Harry nearly swore and rolled again to dodge it.

He was getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu to a similar situation with a bewitched broom.

He snarled.

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the field. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. What was going on? Bludgers never concentrated on one player like this; it was their job to try and unseat as many people as possible, not to kill the seeker specifically.

He flew towards one of his beaters, who was gesturing at him to come her way, and the girl slammed the bludger. The bloody thing turned on a dime ten feet out, and surged straight back at Harry. Luckily, it couldn't change direction half as fast as Harry could and he found by zigging and zagging he was able to avoid it, if only just.

He twirled lightly to dodge it, but he misjudged its trajectory and it slammed into his arm.

 _Ouch_.

His arm was most definitely broken.

He tried to move it to the other side of his chest to hold it there and almost passed out from the pain.

He refocused when the bludger came back towards his face and dived. There, next to Malfoy, was the snitch. The boy was too busy being delighted by Harry's suffering to notice Harry rolled towards Malfoy and put Malfoy between the bludger and himself. It smashed into Malfoy's torso and the boy fell twenty feet to the ground.

Harry pulled out of his dive, pursuing the golden ball, taking his hand off his broom to catch it. He lunged for it, diving forward. His fingers closed around the golden ball and its wings beat feebly in his hand, then Harry hit the earth hard and choked for air.

"We did it." He croaked softly to himself, gasping for breath.

 _I'm delirious._

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again there were people running towards him. He stood up, holding the thing, then noticed Lockhart was approaching him rapidly. He was a few paces ahead of Harry's friends.

That wasn't good. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at his arm, focusing on the bone inside. How different could fixing and breaking a bone really be?

 _Likely, very._

"Oh, no, not you," he moaned, looking down; then Lockhart was on top of him.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly. "He must be delirious."

Alright so Lockhart got that right. Monkeys and typewriters.

 _Not that it should have been difficult to guess._

-worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."

"No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks..."

 _I suddenly rather like it this way._

He missed something being said. It sounded important. He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible.

"Daphne? Hermione?" He crooned. "Literally anyone, get him away from me, won't you?"

Harry fell back in the mud, trying to roll over to get his arm out of the man's reach, but the man held him fast.

"Wait, sir, that's Madam Pomnfrey's job," someone said.

 _Merlin bless you._

"She's helping the boy with the broken ribs." Was another.

 _Heh, silver linings._

Harry saw Lockhart pull his wand and – he would later understand this was probably for the best – passed out in terror.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

"No, don't!" He sat up and almost passed out from dizziness.

Daphne jumped up next to him and Lisa made a frightened squeak.

He lay back down, eyes almost rolling in his head.

"Did Lockhart help me?"

None of the people by his bed said anything.

"That's a conspicuously loud silence."

"He er – he vanished the bones in your arm, Harry." Harry winced at Neville's prognosis.

"And Malfoy?"

"He had some broken ribs and fell along way but Madam Pomfrey can mend broken bones in a heartbeat. Madam Pomfrey let him out days ago."

 _Nice._

Someone laughed.

"Did I say that out loud?"

Hermione brought Madam Pomfrey in,

"Ah, you are awake Mr. Potter."

"Hello, Madam Pomfrey."

His peripheral vision was all wibbly.

"I can't feel my left arm," he informed them succinctly.

 _Why am I talking like this?_

Someone giggled at that.

 _Oh good, they can hear my thoughts! Am I on something? Bloody hell, what did she give me?_

"You're speaking out loud Mr. Potter and it's a mixture of Skelegrow and numbing potions."

"I still can't feel my left arm, isn't that a sign of a heart attack?" Harry reached over and felt his left arm with his right arm. He squeezed softly only to see the skin and muscles gave way under his fingers.

"Merlin," someone said. It might have been him.

Lisa stepped out in a hurry, and Tracey's face was rather green. Even Daphne turned away.

 _Skelegrow. She can grow this back, right?_

"I can indeed Mr. Potter, but will take time, and it will be painful."

"I think I got that." He was still squeezing his boneless arm, morbidly fascinated, requiring someone to pull his hand away.

"I won the match then? Quidditch?"

A vague bushy blur seemed to nod.

 _Hail the conquering hero!_

"Sorry Harry, we tried to stop Lockhart but he's a professor and..."

Harry attempted to stand up.

"Harry? Where are you going?"

He paused. "Where am I going? I don't know. Class? School?"

"What was in those potions, ma'am?"

"Don't stand there," Harry informed them confidently. "You'll fall."

"Give him more! Or less? He hasn't gotten the right amount yet, of whatever you're giving him!"

He was laying on his side now, and Madam Pomfrey swept in front of him to force something gloopy and disgusting down his throat.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Hours and hours later, Harry woke quite suddenly in the pitch blackness, and gave a small yelp of pain. His arm now felt full of large splinters.

 _Bones._

He found he couldn't move that arm. Movement might have somehow disrupted the growing process or something, so it was completely cast and immobilized. For a second, he thought that was what had woken him. He screwed up his bone regrowth! Then, with a thrill of horror, he realized that someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

"Get off!" He looked. It was the elf!

The house-elf's goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose. "Harry Potter came back to school," he whispered miserably.

"Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah Sir, why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he couldn't get on the platform?"

"That was you?" He pushed the elf off of him. He looked around for his wand.

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and suddenly exclaimed, "Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his bludger would be enough to make -"

"Your bludger?" said Harry, anger rising higher. "What do you mean, your bludger? You made that bludger try and kill me?"

Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, Sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"

"You better get out of here before I find my wand and tear you in half."

"Dobby is used to death threats, Sir-"

"Harry doesn't care. You tried to kill me."

 _Turnabout is fair play._

"Dobby already told you he -"

"If that bludger hit my face it would have killed me almost instantly."

Dobby wailed in silence, wringing his floppy ears miserably, and Harry was almost disgusted to feel a stab of pity for the creature.

"Look, alright, if you're trying to save my life just tell the hHadmaster, or me, what you think is trying to kill me."

Dobby's eyes grew wide.

"I can't sir, I've been ordered not to."

"Is this about the Chamber of Secrets? Who opened it, Dobby?"

The still-sobbing creature vanished with a soft snap.

Dumbledore and several Professors came in not a moment later, carrying Colin Creevy. Harry learned from overhearing, that Dumbledore knew the chamber had indeed been opened, and he probably knew who did it too.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

When Harry was finally released he told his friends everything. He told them all about Dobby and Dumbledore's conversion over the petrified first-year.

"Hey guys, I know the chamber is important, but what did I say while I was drugged out?"

There was laughter all around at Harry's expense, and they assured him they were glad that he was safe; coincidentally side-stepping the question.

"You have a death wish, Harry." Daphne told him. "After you hurt Malfoy-"

 _Nice._

"-The slytherin team would have been forced to surrender. They wouldn't have a seeker and his broom was crushed. Madam Pomfrey would have healed you and you could have continued playing against some rubbish seeker."

"I also might have gotten my head taken off by the Bludger," he pointed out.

"You should have just surrendered!" Daphne almost through her arms up in exasperation.

"It was terrifying, the way you hit the ground." Neville told him. "You sort of… bounced."

There was good news, despite the fact that Slytherin's monster was loose, there would apparently be a dueling club. Harry wanted to practice his duelling, but also knew that he couldn't practice any of the actually useful spells that he had learned. He figured the puncturing curse might get him into some trouble.

"You're not coming to the dueling club?" Hermione was horror struck at the thought, "That's usually your kind of thing..."

"Who would duel me, Hermione?"

"I would!" She insisted. He gave her a nonplussed look.

"Can you do a shield charm?" Daphne asked Hermione.

"Of course I can!"

"When'd you do it?" Tracey asked.

"A week ago. Why?

"That's when Harry said you would figure it out." Tracey giggled.

Hermione sputtered indignantly.

"How could you have possibly known-"

"It was a guess based on your progress, Hermione. I saw you do it every day."

"When did you say that?"

"A month ago, when I taught Tracey to do the charm."

"You can do the charm?" Hermione turned to Tracey. "How?"

"I asked Harry." Hermione tugged on her hair at that.

She turned to Harry and glared at him. "How do you always do that? How are you always doing things like that with magic?"

"Hermione, when Harry isn't eating or playing Quidditch, he's practicing magic." Daphne informed her.

"Or studying magic," Neville added.

"Or finding out ways _to_ study and practice magic," said Lisa nodding.

"Do you even sleep?" Neville asked.

"Madam Pomfrey did say you had a terrible sleep-wake cycle," Hermione mused.

"Lisa, you should get some of the Ravenclaw boys to watch him," Daphne tried.

"To watch him sleep?" Lisa asked almost laughing.

"No! To make sure he's sleeping." Daphne glared at him.

"Harry, when was the last time you slept for at least eight hours?" Hermione asked.

"Madam Pomfrey knocking you out doesn't count," Daphne clarified as he made to open his mouth.

He was brought up short at that, and hey were waiting for an answer from him.

"Why am I on trial here?"

"Weren't we talking about duelling?" Neville said, trying to shift the topic.

 _Attaboy Neville._

"Well, I would duel you," said Daphne. "You did mention you wanted practice."

What Harry really wanted was a pensive and a memory of Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald, but Professor Flitwick's instruction might be the next best thing, even if he couldn't get Flitwick to show him anything.

Harry rubbed his jaw.

After some more 'convincing', they approached the crowded platforms set up for dueling in the Great Hall.

"So, you're going to join the dueling club?" Hermione asked him more excitedly.

"That depends. Is Flitwick teaching the dueling or is it-?"

Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes

of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Professor Snape, wearing

his usual black.

Harry immediately turned mid-step to walk right back out of the Hall, but was stopped by Daphne grabbing him by the back of his robes.

Harry watched Professor Snape's lips curl in a sneer at Lockhart's opening diatribe.

 _Do it._

Harry pleaded.

 _Blow him apart. I'll swear in court it was self-defense._

Harry cheered when Snape flung Lockhart against the far wall. Despite the incantation, Harry doubted that it was just a simple disarming spell. The man had put serious vitriol into the magic. Harry might have been the only non-Slytherin cheering.

Hermione elbowed him in the side.

"Hermione, I know you're a fan, but he vanished all the bones in my arm, and he pisses off every single other teacher."

Hermione frowned at him. "That doesn't give you the right to be rude."

Harry disagreed.

He ended up paired up with Ronald Weasley by Professor Snape. Weasley had a broken wand, and Harry chose to believe that Professor Snape was confident Harry would survive the imminent magical backlash, so paired him with Weasley over any other student. It was far more likely that Professor Snape hoped one of them would die.

Harry immediately shielded as soon as Lockhart counted down and hoped to weather whatever would happen. Ron Weasley was launched backwards by his own spell.

Seamus Finnigan then blew something up to Harry's right.

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the Hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and quickly looked away. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Finnigan and Weasley, how about you-"

"-A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," Snape interjected smoothly. "Have you seen the state of Weasley's wand? And Finnigan causes devastation with the simplest of spells.

 _Harsh but true._

"How about Malfoy and… Potter."

 _I need to get Professor Snape something for Christmas._

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy toward the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy snipped, looking a little pallid.

Harry smiled gently. "You look pale, Malfoy."

Lockhart attempted to demonstrate something but all he accomplished was dropping his wand.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

Harry ignored the man.

Three, two, one, go!" he shouted. Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, " _Tarantallegra!_ "

Harry shielded himself and gestured with his free hand, supplying force to Draco's stomach. The boy bent over gasping.

Harry smiled and waited for him to catch his breathe. Draco was panicking.

" _Serpensortia_!" The boy gasped.

Even as Harry read the other boy's mind he couldn't believe what the boy was about to do.

Harry blew the boy off the stage as the boy launched the spell.

" _Don't move_ ," he told the snake.

It landed amongst the onlookers.

"Did you forget?" He asked Malfoy.

Snape vanished the snake with a wave of his wand, before joining everybody in staring at Harry. He sighed. This was going to be one of those things.

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The next day, the school avoided Harry like the plague. The whole affair had been a grim reminder that he was a parselmouth, more than just a rumor. He _must_ be the heir of Slytherin.

"You know it's creepy when you speak parseltongue." Hermione admirably tried to defend the harsh reaction. "You can't entirely fault them, given how rare the talent is. Plus, there's always been the rumors that you sneak around the castle at night. Which, you know, is true."

He groaned.

"But at least you guys know it can't be me."

"Of course we do, the chamber of secrets was opened fifty years ago, it couldn't be you." He looked at her. "What? It's in _Hogwarts, A History_."

"Hermione, you are the only person in the school who has read _Hogwarts, A History_."

"What? You haven't read it? I thought you-"

"There aren't any spells in that book Hermione. Why would I be interested?"

"Plus, you read books like- like _that_. Why wouldn't people think you're suspicious?"

"But I don't attack anyone."

"What about Malfoy?"

"In both our duels he consented, and Quidditch is a violent sport. I suppose I also got him for attacking Neville."

She frowned. "You have to admit that is a lot of violence, plus you attacked Nott."

"He tried to burn me, he summoned fire."

"People who bother you tend to get hurt. Colin was bothering you and now he's in the hospital wing."

"He hadn't bothered me since I told him off. I even fixed his camera for him."

She hmphed at him. He returned to his glamored guide to magical combat, _Peace and Quiet_. It introduced the concept of chaining spells together in duelling, based on the wand movements.

"Harry can you help me with something? You see there's a-"

"A spell you're working on?" He said at the same time as her.

"It's also unnerving when you do stuff like that, Harry. I want to summon a whip which lashes out and wraps itself around things. In a duel I could use it to tie up someone's legs or hands."

It took a lot for her to ask for his help.

"What wand movement were you using?"

She showed him.

"Why don't we try it outside the library?"

They went down to the room he had claimed. He was thinking about enchanting and warding it to make it a bit more personal, but couldn't imagine claiming a room as his own would sit well.

 _Though, what they don't know, can't bother them._

He just needed to find a way to make everyone else incapable of finding it. It was more than beyond him at the moment.

"My incantation is _Flagelus._ "

"You're using an incantation?" She looked bewildered.

"Of course, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I didn't need to, I already knew what I wanted." He gestured, and a desk slid into the middle of the floor. "Show me what you have so far."

A thick brown rope shot from her wand towards the desk's leg. It didn't wrap around the leg, or even stay connected to her wand.

He frowned. This would take some time.

They tried over thirty different wand movements before they left, but Harry suspected that the wand movement wasn't Hermione's problem. He didn't want to just come out and tell her that her intent was wrong though. The spell was fairly complicated, with several different parts happening in sequence. Rope was conjured, it met something, wrapped around it, then pulled tight.

Harry suspected that Hermione wasn't intending everything to happen at once when she cast the spell, but he wasn't going to come and flat out tell her that she was casting poorly when it took so much for her to ask for his help. How could he tell her she was performing her own spell wrong? He would sit down in the library with her and find a book on spell theory which argued his points _for_ him.

She parted for the Gryffindor common room and he turned for Ravenclaw tower.

" _Come . . . come to me. . . . Let me rip you. . . . Let me tear you. . . . Let me kill you. . . ._ "

He looked around, wand up. " _Homenum revelio!"_ There was no feedback from the spell.

He climbed the stairs and came across something terrible. Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face. His eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling, and next to him was something even more horrifying. It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half-off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

Peeves came along, making a racket, and people flooded into the corridor. Harry was worried someone would step on Justin and people kept standing in Sir Nicolas.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing

his finger dramatically at Harry.

 _If I do not get expelled tonight, you have earned so many headaches._

"That will do, Mr. Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

"This way, Potter," she said.

"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't —"

"This is out of my hands, Potter," she replied curtly.

She led him to the Headmaster's office.

"Treacle tart," caused the gargoyle to jumped aside this time, and there, at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Headmaster's office, was Trevor the Toad.

 _You couldn't have picked a worse place or time._

Professor McGonagall bade him to wait inside.

There was a strange gagging noise. Up on the pedestal – which had been empty last time he was here – was a mottled, chicken-like bird with dull-red plumage. It looked decrepit, making another gagging noise before abruptly bursting into flames.

 _A phoenix._

He stepped closer to watched it emerge from its ashes. It was still ugly, but it was tiny now. Pushing its way out and making a soft trilling noise.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a burning day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have incredible healing properties, and they make highly _faithful_ pets."

The way the Headmaster stressed his words was a little odd, and Harry knew better than to believe it was a simple pet. This was the headmaster's _familiar_. He looked at it. He found himself slightly jealous that the Headmaster was closely bonded with one of the most powerful magical creatures on the planet.

"Something on your mind, Harry?"

"It's a great familiar to have sir, you must be very proud."

"Oh?

Harry nodded. "A phoenix is very powerful, and they live such long lives. I've read they can also travel through most any wards."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling. "You are very well read then. Are you considering taking care of magical creatures next year?"

"I was considering it sir, but I am less interested in the care of the animals as I am with the study of their properties."

Dumbledore nodded, "like the legilimency a sphinx demonstrates, perhaps?"

"Yes sir, their natural talent caught my eye."

Dumbledore nodded. "Will you tell me what happened tonight Harry?"

"Would you like to see for yourself, Sir?" Harry asked.

"Kind of you, my lad." The man extracted a vial.

"Do you know how to retrieve a memory, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Though, this will be the first time I attempt it, Sir."

Harry raised his wand to his temple and focused, slowly pulling the memory from his head before settled it in the vial.

"You don't want to view it, Sir?"

"Not at this moment." The Headmaster always found a way to put him off balance.

"Do you have anything you wish to ask, Harry?"

He did. He nodded. "Will you tell me who opened the chamber last time? Sir?"

"Former headmaster Dippet expelled one Rubius Hagrid for the crimes believed to be the work of the Heir of Slytherin."

There was a large pause.

"But who actually did it?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"You will find that the head boy at the time, One Tom Marvolo Riddle received an award for special services to the school." Why could the man never give a straight answer?

"Is that all, Harry?"

"I'm worried about being a parselmouth sir. Every single extraordinary wizard I was able to find who possessed the ability were… well, they all possessed a certain lack of morals. Salazar Slytherin was likely the most moral of them and he was fairly bigoted, if the accounts of the time are accurate. Voldemort and Herpo the Foul were also both…" Harry imagined the man knew. Even if he didn't, one could certainly surmise from Herpo's suffix.

"No single talent is sufficient to drive any one wizard from doing what is right, Harry."

Harry paused. "What about multiple talents, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled softly. "I doubt any wizard who indeed felt anxious about where they might stand morally would questions things so thoroughly. Nor would they tell their Headmaster and Magical Guardian. I would, however, caution you to use your gifts sparingly, Harry, and to not abuse your peers."

Harry nodded. He considered asking Dumbledore for a copy of the memory of his famous duel. If the things Harry had read about the event were true, it was hardly acceptable material to give a twelve-year-old, regardless of the books said twelve-year-old frequented. Wizards had been simultaneously boiled, crushed, frozen and exploded, simply for standing too close. Harry even read one account that said all four deadly effects had been suffered by one particularly unfortunate wizard standing near Grindelwald.

"If that is all Harry, I would ask if there is anything you wish to tell me."

Harry thought about it. He had been pretty open with the man, though he kept the vision in the Mirror of Erised to himself. And it was that, he told himself, a vision, not a lie. It would happen.

Harry finally shook his head, knowing full well the silence between the headmaster's question and his response might seem incredibly suspicious. He chose to believe that Dumbledore would understand. "No, sir."

When he returned to Ravenclaw tower. He found nearly half the Ravenclaws there waiting with bated breath. He stepped past them inside.

Lisa was there, and he smiled. "Harry are you…?"

"The Headmaster never believed it was me." Harry said confidently. He stepped through them towards her to sit down, ignoring the stares around him.

Anthony Goldstein took a step back.

 _Muggleborn_

Harry surmised as much from the boy's mind.

"I do have an alibi." He said a little louder than strictly necessary. "I was studying with Hermione."

Someone spoke up. "You weren't in the library."

Harry turned towards Cho Chang.

"I was helping her with a spell."

 _This isn't working._

Harry shook his head.

"I'll see you later Lisa, I think I'll turn in for the night."

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" _A wizard could trust you because of the hellish future he could unleash on you if his trust was betrayed." - Terry Pratchett_

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 **Here we are, at Christmas again. Some Luna Lovegood was teased but hasn't entered yet. I suppose I need to come up with thoughtful gifts and what not. Or I could skip over it. You could believe that Harry is capable of giving thoughtful gifts.**

 **We're about halfway through the second year which is right where we need to be so that's good.**

 **Here's the scoop. I won't be updating until finals are over at the earliest. For me that's 12/14/17. So don't expect an update until after that.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **-WG**

Edited 1/31/17


	6. Cassandra

_Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **Excuses.**

 **I believe things will pick up again and I'll be back to a faster update schedule. Perhaps weekly or biweekly.**

 **I intend to incorporate various psychic abilities into this story which I rarely see. If ever. The magical world should never be tame.**

 **Man, did some rereading of my work. Wow. Mistakes. Gotta go back and edit.**

 **Some readers don't like my Daphne. They tell me she isn't canon. Go find passages about Daphne's character in the original and argue it with me. And even if you do remember that I am god and your characters belong to me, when written here and here alone.**

 **I do not own Harry Potter.**

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" _Force and mind are opposites; morality ends where a gun begins." Ayn Rand_

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It was a stampede to exit Hogwarts when Holidays finally arrived, and Harry's friends left with the mass of students. As a result, Harry found himself alone in the school in the days leading up to Christmas. People would stand stock still if he passed them in the halls, or turn the other direction if they crossed his path.

 _They fear me for all the wrong reasons._

He found a quiet place to himself where he could focus more on making a new spell. He began with the seize and pull charm as the basis. It had similar properties, even if it wasn't an exact match. His spell was supposed to pull objects towards a particular target, so in a duel it could cause rubble or debris to fly at his opponent. But the seize and pull charm started with an object and pulled _it_ rather than start with a target _then_ pull objects.

The difference was substantial enough that he gave up with that line of thinking and began from scratch.

Of course, new spells weren't the only things he found himself researching in his spare time. His discussion with the Headmaster ignited a newfound interest in magical creatures. He found himself fascinated with some of their properties and desired to imitate some of them, if possible.

The aerokinesis of American Thunderbirds was particularly fascinating, and he took careful notes on the hide of dragons and basilisks. He pondered the nature of a basilisk's stare and wondered if it was by some form of legilimency that it was possible.

Phoenix tears and their properties were far beyond him. He had read that their astounding healing properties had their basis in soul magic, of which he knew little. He didn't bother to research something so abstract, at least for now, what with his other studies. The mind was difficult enough to crack, the soul could come later.

However, the flame travel afforded by the creatures was less metaphysical, and he made note of several attempts to imitate the ability from accounts within the library. Then he found references to similar abilities used by ancient wizards. A man known to modern scholars only as Agni was said to have mastered the ability to flame travel like a Phoenix and was an adept natural Pyrokinetic beyond any wizard or witch before or since.

He discovered several other so-called 'God-mages' not dissimilar to Agni who had developed similar abilities, known collectively as the 'Apauruseya'. The magic used in the east at the time did not require wands, instead these warlocks had focused their magic through their bodies, channelling their intent to astounding effect, and performing magics still unfathomable to modern wizards.

His notebook was soon filled with references to them and their abilities, even to comparisons of modern magic and research performed by scholars. He resolved to enchant the journal into organized sections based on his different interests. It was a spell book and a grimoire, but it was also more; especially to him.

He sealed the book with his blood. It had to stay safe and private.

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Christmas day he spent alone, developing his spell. He snapped his wand at a desk and several books shot towards it in a flurry of papers. Several other desks screeched forward a little. He frowned, having wanted a stronger effect; one that would be useful in a duel.

He made a note in his book. His wand movement needed to be changed for a greater effect. He made another note about a new spell he wanted to develop. Perhaps a longer one that would supply more power.

He looked down at his Christmas gift from Daphne. It was a mirror and he suspected that it should allow her to communicate with him, however, it seems some error was made. Daphne had been overzealous, and sent it to him prematurely.

 _Perhaps distance is interfering too much. The protean charm would have served her well here._

To be fair, it was an advanced charm. One he had far from mastered himself.

He looked down at his notebook and sighed. He was no master enchanter, that was certain. Sometimes the pages in the book would move around, become out of order or get lost for a few hours after he had attempted to enchant it to organize itself.

He had also never tested the protections on it. Only someone with his blood _should_ be able to bypass them, and he had considered adding a curse or hex or two to anyone who attempted to access his secrets.

He sat down and wrote out his ideas as well as a legilimency technique he had practiced. He suspected that most legilimency techniques used pain and emotions to lead a probe around to access the mind. He believed that pleasure could also be used. A carrot and a stick approach might benefit him best.

His time tormenting Ernie Macmillan was enlightening in this regard, and he found he could now enter a mind and explore it almost freely. However, forming connections, manipulating, and attacking the mind of an Occlumens would still require greater skill.

His touch was subtle enough that he could reach deep into the minds of his peers without detection, breathe their emotions in, and even catch memories and thoughts without causing pain. But he could push for more; longer memories, and deeper, older, or more buried thoughts required more push on his end, causing discomfort to those he targetted. Of course, he had yet to improve on his ability to extract longer memories or control which ones he saw, nor could he subtly manipulate emotions or thoughts to more than a mediocre degree.

He packed his books and up and departed to the Great Hall. Before he arrived, he ran into a platinum haired girl in the corridors. Her eyes were large, dreamy and blue and her face was pale. There were dark circles under her eyes and she seemed lost.

He didn't recognize her.

"You will never be an elementalist." She said with calm certainty, a dreamy note to her tone.

 _What?_

That was unexpected. Was she spying on him? How did she know about his research? She simply stood there under his scrutiny, smiling softly and wiggling her toes against the flagstones. She had no shoes on, and her voice was full of air, like her words might drift away.

He felt outrage, had she been through his book? He reared back to pierce her mind and tear it to pieces for violating his privacy.

"They say you're dangerous, you know?"

He hesitated and looked at her confused.

"Who are you?" He looked through her. Ready to rip and rend at her.

He found her mind already flayed.

Her mind was dense and full of magic, but not like an Occlumens. It was as though her brain had been put through some kind of magical blender. Some of the properties seemed as if someone had repeatedly torn into her mind with Legilimency. Similar, but not quite.

He touched at what appeared to be a memory and felt the instant pain that came with it. Swirling colors not unlike those he had seen when he first began his voyage into the mind arts danced before his metaphorical eyes.

Inside the bubble was pure knowledge.

He grasped it, agony lanced through his mind, and he knew that he would never match the power of the God-mages of India.

She was a seer, he realized. She saw visions of the future and received pieces of knowledge like the one he had just received. She had no control over what she saw or when she saw it. The future came to her unbidden and unwelcome in her mind.

Her mind looked torn open because it _was_.

Magic would seize her and fill her head with truth, and it extracted a price every time.

"I'm Luna Lovegood, everyone just calls me Loony, though."

Perhaps they were right. Perhaps she was crazy. Though with her mind being ripped open daily in her sleep, it was little wonder she was a tad unstable. Her psyche was completely vulnerable.

Some people could catch glimpses of the future with divination, or expand on their own innate precognition abilities with it. But they were not the same as a true seer. It was the difference between being an animagus, which was interesting, prodigious and uncommon, and being a shapeshifter, a legendary ability.

This girl was valuable. Unbelievably so.

But she was also incredibly damaged.

"You're not crazy, or loony." He informed her. "You just need a little help."

"Are you going to help me?" It sounded almost challenging, but there was something hopeful in it. Her inflection on each word gave the question six different meanings.

The question had many layers. Did she know he wanted access to her gift? It was possible. She could see the future after all. Did she believe that he could help her? There was nothing in her mind to give him direction or answer his questions. It was as though she cared how he answered but didn't know how she wanted to answer. She was lost.

"I think that the others don't understand you," he said slowly.

"And you do?"

"Not at all." The truth from his mouth with surprising ease. He paused, searching for the right answer. "I think that I could."

She smiled. "I'd like that."

She continued to drift up towards the Ravenclaw common room.

It was possible she had manipulated everything. Used her sight and psychic knowledge of him to orchestrate a path to victory where she got something she wanted. She could have just shown him what he wanted to see.

He took a breath. If he second guessed everything then he could easily fall into solipsism with something like this. He frowned.

He should tell Dumbledore about her. She could use the help, and he believed Dumbledore could take care of her. She could be safe, and her talents given the ability to grow under the nurturing wing of an expert. Perhaps more importantly, she would receive the care she so desperately needed. While considering telling Dumbledore though, he imagined the girl by his side. He could gaze into her mind, examine the visions which flooded her head when magic took her thoughts in its grasp and left them raw.

It was a powerful, invaluable asset to have. He could do great things with something like that. He needed to learn more.

He made a note in his notebook about the girl and carried on towards dinner. It was after all, impossible not to enjoy Christmas at Hogwarts.

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When Harry's friends returned they were loyal. They believed he wasn't attacking his peers. They were wrong, depending on the precise definition of 'attacking' involved, but he found their faith comforting.

Daphne was livid over the mirror disconnecting. She was even more disappointed when he presented his own solution to their project in their room.

"It's so simple." Her face was buried in her hands. "I should have thought of it."

"Oh, you know how Harry is." Tracey comforted her friend. "He always finds a way to make things work out like this. It's not like your solution was wrong or bad. It's just a few spells. Harry knows magic, he lives and breathes the stuff, you know?"

"That's the point." Daphne wrung her hands in her lap. "How am I supposed to keep up?" She turned on Harry. "It's not like you need us to teach you things. Why do you even keep us around?"

[He's leaving me behind.]

It was… not inaccurate. For the most part his peers _couldn't_ keep up with him. He was too talented, and grasped magic too quickly.

He almost shrugged in response and returned to his book. He didn't actually shrug, because he knew from her thoughts it would just make things worse. A dismissal was the last thing she wanted.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

[What is he thinking? What does he think about us.]

He frowned and looked down, considering. Before she could answer, he continued on "You're my friends. I don't keep you around because you're _useful._ "

She looked stunned. "You're saying we're useless."

He narrowed his brow. "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I meant only what I said. I did not say you are useless."

She sighed and turned back to Tracey. "No, I suppose you didn't." She was still wringing her hands.

Tracey interjected before Harry could pursue. "Well, what are you guys going to work on now? You finished the mirrors. Oh! Are you going to do something with your cloak? We could all walk around invisible, think about it! Ooh! What about your journal? There's a load of magic you can do with a book!"

Harry looked at his notebook. He opened his mouth to answer.

"He already enchanted his journal."

"Notebook," Harry corrected.

"Journal," Daphne repeated with a smirk. "Do you have any other ideas? You must have something."

He thought carefully. "I was considering modifying the room."

"The room?" Tracey asked.

Harry nodded. "We spend so much time here. It's practically ours."

"It's brilliant!" Daphne returned full force. "What were you planning?"

"I was going to expand it. Maybe make it hard to find."

Daphne grinned.

 _She is about to get her way._

"You could decorate it too." Tracey interjected. "It is rather droll in here, extend the windows, give better lighting. That sort of thing."

"Get rid of the cobwebs and dust everywhere," Daphne added.

Harry shook his head. "I'll leave that to you."

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Valentine's Day passed uneventfully for Harry. He learned that someone had bought a cupid-gram for him, but he was behind several notice-me-not charms in his room. He was trying to expand the room, but it never stayed equal and gave the room a distinctly lopsided feel.

He met with Hermione in the room and found that her spell was coming along nicely. His plan to educate her on the multi-stage intent worked well, and she was now able to whisk an inkwell to her hand from a desk.

It wasn't what she wanted, but it was a start.

The attacks stopped after Christmas and the castle settled back into a comfortable routine. Fewer people threw glances Harry's way, and they seemed to have forgotten how they attempted to shun him, and why they had done so, within just a few short weeks.

As spring approached, so too did the decision over their third-year electives. Neville received letters from his family, all with conflicting advice. Harry had caught a glance at Hermione's slip and saw she had signed up for every classe without hesitation.

Harry signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, Runes, and Arithmancy. Arithmancy and Runes were both necessary for abstract Magics and advanced enchanting. He planned to take the OWL for Muggle Studies as soon as possible, he would likely do so over the summer at the ministry. That would bring him up to eleven NEWTS if he included his core classes. More, if he studied Alchemy in his sixth and seventh years, and if he learned enough from extracurricular subjects such as Magical Theory, Advanced Arithmancy, and Ancient Studies. He could also take OWLs in Dark Arts, Enchanting, and Spell Creation, if he studied sufficiently in his spare time.

That would place him at eighteen OWLs/NEWTs. He never told Hermione about his ambitions seeing as how she would attempt to compete with him or scold him for taking too many classes. The hypocrisy would have likely sailed right over her head. He did at least tell Daphne, who smirked in an almost proud way at him. He had yet to decide what he had felt in her mind.

There was also Quidditch to consider, and Harry felt ready for an upcoming game against Slytherin. It was when Harry was leaving the Great Hall one evening, Lisa and Neville in tow, that he heard the voice again.

" _Kill this time...let me rip...tear…_ "

He looked about, startled. He heard it, but no one else seemed to have reacted. He was the only one who could hear it. It must be…

He looked frantically towards Dumbledore. It hit him. The monster was a snake. He thought of his notebook and the only thing that made sense; a Basilisk.

Despite what many authors wrote about the Nundu and its toxic breath, the Basilisk could kill its enemies from miles away. A glance was all it took, making it, in his opinion, the most dangerous creature in the world.

He looked at Dumbledore frantically, but was slowly being pushed out by the crowd.

 _Someone was going to die._

He slammed the thought into Dumbledore's head with all he could muster.

 _It's a Basilisk. A snake. I heard-_

He lost eye contact with his guardian, who was looking surprised. The man stood quickly and moved into the greater castle after excusing himself from the staff table.

The Quidditch game was called off when Penelope Clearwater and Hermione's petrified bodies were found by the Headmaster.

Hermione lay utterly still with glassy eyes. Harry found himself visiting her alongside Neville and Lisa.

"They were found near the library." Professor McGonagall informed them. "I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them..."

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.

Harry nodded. He pulled an identical mirror from his robes and spoke aloud. "Hermione." There was no response from Hermione's mirror until it shuddered and cracked. The enchantments sparking.

Professor McGonagall dropped it quickly and looked at him.

"Sorry, Professor. We designed the mirrors to allow us to contact one another."

"You designed them." Lisa corrected.

Harry shrugged. "Whatever happened must have broken the enchantments," he said turning back to the Professor.

"That's fairly advanced magic Mr. Potter." She looked surprised. He shrugged again, looking down at his friend. Her gaze was blank. The mirror had likely saved her life, if his speculations were correct.

The Headmaster paced into the room at that moment, stealing the Professor's attention away from whatever she had been about to say.

"Minerva, would you escort Mrs. Turpin and Mr. Longbottom back to their houses and make the announcement."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Very well, I shall inform the students that the school is to be closed."

"Closed?" Harry started. "What-"

The Headmaster held up a silencing and calming hand. "Harry, if you are correct about the identity of Slytherin's monster, there is little we can do."

Professor McGonagall gave a start.

"You could set up rooster nests in the corridors, you could-"

"Roosters?" Neville looked lost.

"Are you suggesting I allow students to remain within a building infested with a Basilisk? No. I will endeavor to kill the beast, I intended to use a manner similar to that which you just described, however, I cannot place the students in my charge at such risk, including you, Harry." Harry gritted his teeth but stayed silent. He had no decent counter-argument. "If you would, Minerva."

She swept his friends from the room without preamble.

"How did you come to learn about the beast, Harry?"

He looked down and gathered himself. "I could hear it when no one else could, meaning my Legilimency is more powerful than I realized, or-"

"Or it was speaking parseltongue." The headmaster nodded. "In the future, should you need to warn me about something, however," Harry winced, preparing for a reprimand for his use of his talents, "I expect it to be done with more grace."

The old man still found ways to put him off-balance.

Dumbledore gave a twinkling smile. "Fifty points are due, I believe, to Ravenclaw, for your efforts at identifying the beast and saving your peers."

Harry nodded feeling stunned.

"Thank you, Sir."

Dumbledore looked down at Hermione for the first time. "You will be leaving with the other students by Sunday, bound once more for Longbottom Manor. I suggest you acquire any reading materials you believe will allow you to continue to continue your education. Professor Flitwick informed me of your choices to pursue so many classes. Ambitious of you, Harry, but very possible I should think."

Harry nodded again.

"Now, if you would join your housemates in Ravenclaw tower?"

"Thank you, Headmaster." Harry recognized the dismissal and left, wondering if he would get his NEWTs after all.

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The Ravenclaw tower was exceedingly quiet with one of its prefects petrified. It had been one thing for first year Colin Creevey to be taken by the beast, but Penelope had been a talented witch. It was unlikely that anyone else, regardless of year, would be able to defend themselves from the monster if she had been taken. This logic had taken root deep in the minds of the Ravenclaw students.

Professor Flitwick had also announced that a teacher or prefect escort would take each class to and from their lessons to ensure their safety. This received much less compliant than one would think, given Penelope's current condition.

The knowledge that Harry's friend had been taken and that he was publicly in the Great Hall meant to all but the most illogical that he couldn't have been the perpetrator. His main proponents for his guilt, like Terry Boot, weren't the sort to apologize to him. Not that he wanted an apology, or indeed wanted to talk to most his peers.

His main concerns were on moving out of the school, away from his home. Hogwarts was beyond dear to him. He decided to catch the Heir of Slytherin and stop them… this was a great thought, of course, but he had little in the way of actual leads as to the heir's identity. It was likely, then, that one of the senior students was the heir, someone who he hadn't been around often. If that was the case, there were also likely his seniors in magic as well.

When he sat down in the Ravenclaw common room, he opened his magical creatures book to a section on the Wampus Cat, which was said to have the power of both hypnosis and legilimency; he wasn't sure that it was true. Lisa joined him shortly.

"I'm sorry about what happened to Hermione."

Harry resisted the urge to shrug. "She isn't dead, and she can be revived. I just need to make her a new mirror. Does yours work okay?"

She nodded but gave him a concerned look.

[Does he care about Hermione? He is technically right, and... I guess madam Sprout _does_ have her mandrakes nearing maturity. So…]

He felt her concern for… him? Herself? Their situation overall? Something. His seeming apathy seemed to have disturbed her.

 _She thinks I should be more upset; like I was for Neville when he was attacked by Malfoy._

"I just wish I knew who the heir was," he followed up, to reassure her. "Aside from that, there's nothing I can do. What's that?"

He caught something in her book, something light blue.

"Oh this?" She took it out from her book and thumbed the page it had been on. "My mother sent it to me. It's an Occamy feather. She works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I plan to study magical creatures next year too, you know? I think you signed up for it as well." She hesitated a moment. "Do you want to find the heir of Slytherin, or are you searching for them, Harry? There's a large difference."

"It's not like I even know where to start to look, so I'm not hunting for them if that's what you're suggesting."

No, just the beast's death would be sufficient to ensure Hogwarts' safety. He could transfigure a pheasant from some things and a rooster wasn't so different. Bigger, but about as complex.

Still, his ability to kill the monster aside, he had no leads on the heir and no means to acquire them, except perhaps… He looked across the Ravenclaw common room at a certain platinum-haired girl.

It was likely that of everyone in the school, Luna Lovegood would have the answers, despite the fact that she would be completely ignorant of said knowledge. It was unlikely there was a more powerful seer in the school, at least, that _he_ would have access to. A powerful medium, a psychometric, a telesthetic, a retrocognitive, or any manner of clairaesthetic, be they clairvoyant or clairaudient, would also be able to find the answers he sought with relative ease. _If_ they were powerful enough with their given talent.

But there were no signs of such talents, and Harry would like to believe that even though Luna had escaped his notice, few others who had such powerful abilities would. Indeed, there may even be a clairsentient in the castle, but it was unlikely they were powerful enough to discover what he needed to know before the end of the week.

Luna was unequivocally his best chance to remain in the school.

"Harry why are you staring at Loony Lovegood?" Lisa whispered.

"Well, she has a very interesting set of glasses." Harry excused himself.

Lisa seemed to accept that, given that Luna was wearing a pair of bright red glasses with wings on the edges. It gave her a very owlish appearance as she looked around, twisting her neck wildly. She looked at him for a bare moment and he drifted into her mind.

It was as much of a mess as before. There were the usual white wisps of memory but there were also… strains, and strands of glowing string with bright globules of light across them. The touch of magic on her mind.

 _Snake…_

He whispered into her mind and followed the connections it produced. He touched the first glowing light, and saw a snake strike a red-haired man who collapsed into a growing pool of blood in a dark corridor. This was a vision, and it produced a headache in himself. An echo of what Luna had suffered to gain the knowledge.

He also saw one of her own memories of chasing a snake in her childhood which gave him some respite.

He needed to narrow his search, he considered. Hogwarts was likely too broad for all her memories, and it assumed she would recognize the places in her visions.

 _Hidden...Snake…_

He saw… a dark room and himself… from… above? Below? His position in the memory had elements of these things but was neither. The thing he touched and experienced was knowledge, not memory. He knew that he ran his thumb over a faucet depicting a snake. He hissed _open,_ and before him the sink did just that, revealing a secret passage way, or perhaps a _hidden_ passageway.

He withdrew and the time it had taken to retrieve what he needed was a bare few moments. Luna swayed on her feet and groaned. He winced. He could have been gentler, it was likely his rummaging had caused her pain… or his attempts to find the answer had summoned a vision and she was now paying for it with her discomfort.

He looked down, apologizing mentally, and began to consider what he had seen. It was a bathroom… One he did not recognize. This meant it was a girls' bathroom.

 _The pipes_.

The plumbing to the school was extensive, designed for a much larger population than currently inhabited it. Rooms had been closed for centuries, ever since the magical birth rate had declined so much. It must be how the creature got around, and a bathroom was likely one of the best points of entry or exit. He would have to search each girls' bathroom to find it.

Or, at least the ones with the sinks like that. He frowned; something seemed off about this, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Sneaking away to explore female lavatories was more difficult than one might think and, when stated as a sentence, was much creepier than what was actually happening.

His opportunity arose after defense with the Slytherins, while Lockhart was escorting them to their next class. The man had assured them that the danger had passed, and now seemed to be growing sickly and pale after he had been proven wrong and the danger was in fact growing.

"Frankly," the boisterous man began, " I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

"I agree, sir," said Harry. Daphne turned to him in shock and Tracey almost dropped her books.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with without walking students to classes, and standing guard all night..."

Harry breathed and felt his wand against his chest; it was warm, and he used that comfort to shore himself up. "Why don't you return to your next class. I'm sure that we can find our way to the Great Hall for lunch, wouldn't you agree?" As Harry said it, he slipped into the man's mind to discover a complete lack of awareness regarding mind magic. He rolled the fingers on his hand as he pushed magic into his words. This, he had read, was the origins of the Imperius curse. A shortcut in mind magic derived from legilimency. He curled his fingers and focused.

"Yes...I...think you are correct. Try not to get hurt on your journey to Madam Sprout!" The man laughed at his joke and his voice was airy at first and unfocused. He was also wrong about where they were going.

Harry turned back to Daphne. She was watching with interest. She had seen his hand movement, and she knew that _something_ had happened.

"What was that?" He ignored her question for a moment, rubbing his jaw.

"I know where the Chamber is. Or at least, I have an idea. I also know what the beast is. I can kill it, and then school won't have to be cancelled."

She sighed. "You really are a Ravenclaw. Well-"

Tracey interrupted "Where is it? How did you find it? How do you know what the beast is? Are you going to kill it? Do you have a plan? Where-"

"Tracey." Harry hissed. Looking at his fellow peers. "It's in a girls' lavatory. The beast is a Basilisk. It uses the pipes to get around. I don't know which lavatory though-"

"Wait how can you-" Daphne tried.

"It has a central column with several sinks, and it has faucets with snakes carved into them."

She glared at him for interrupting. "I don't know about the snakes, but it sounds like Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the-."

"Second floor!" Tracey bounced. Daphne stamped a food in frustration. "How-"

Harry was already off.

"Harry, wait!" Daphne pursued him. "You can't just charge in there."

"I'm not charging anywhere," Harry replied evenly. "I know where to go, how to get there and how to kill the beast." He kept walking at a fast pace.

"Is this like the Stone? Do you just like saving things? You don't need to be a hero, Harry!"

 _Hero?_

He shook his head. "Come on. We can still-"

Professor McGonagall's voice boomed into the corridors, _"All students are to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."_

"We've been discovered," Daphne began.

 _We?_

"Or there was another attack." Tracey gave her two knuts.

"Then _we_ should move quickly," Harry affirmed. They climbed the steps to where Filch's cat was found petrified and there, beneath the previous writing from the Heir of Slytherin, which had resisted all attempts to be removed, was a new message.

 **Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever**

"'Her?'" Daphne eyed the message.

Harry shrugged.

She turned towards him. "I thought you knew all the details. This isn't safe. You should tell a teacher."

Harry shook his head. "I suspect that only a parselmouth can enter."

He stepped into the bathroom. Myrtle was stepped through a toilet stall. The wall of a stall that is.

"What do _you_ want?" She pressed.

"To ask you how you died," said Harry, pieces beginning to fit together in his head.

Myrtle's demeanor changed in a heartbeat, actually looking flattered by the question. He found himself wondering if he should take Ghoul Studies. Ghosts were at the very least, different… They seemed to have their own culture.

"Oh, it was dreadful," she grinned, thoroughly relishing the tale of her demise and being able to share it. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language-"

 _Parseltongue._

"-I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So, I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then-" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining like the moon as she gave the moment pause for emphasis. "-I died."

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," Myrtle said, shrugging. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My body seized up, and then I was floating away..." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry paced over to the sink, now recognizing it from Luna's visions. Daphne stepped forward too, but Tracey seemed ready to flee in her terror. Harry drew his wand and pulled out his mirror, just in case. It looked like an ordinary sink. Harry examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry saw what he was looking for. Etched into the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake. He ran his thumb against it.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as he tried to turn it.

He transfigured a rooster after a moment.

" _Avis._ "

Harry stepped back, holding the mirror in one hand, with the rooster under the arm that held his wand.

" _Open,_ " he ordered. The sink glowed and sank into the floor, revealing an enormous dark pipe.

"You actually did it," Daphne whispered, eyes wide.

" _Stairs_ ," he demanded. A soft glow produced stairs out of the sides of the pipe. The space was likely arithmantically expanded, so however fair down the pipe ran there wouldn't be many steps.

"Harry, wait. We should get Dumbledore. Or, somebody. You can't-"

"This is what Dumbledore would do himself." He shifted the rooster in his arms and it gave a squawk.

"Harry." She stepped forward. "I'll go with you." She was afraid. He didn't need to read her mind to tell.

"Can you?" He stepped down to the next step and she stepped forward. She encountered resistance. A shimmering wall that prevented her from stepping closer.

"As I said, only a parseltongue can enter," he told her. "I'll be right back. The Rooster crows, the Basilisk dies, and the school stays open."

"What a hopelessly vague set of objectives." She sighed. "I can't stop you but-"

Harry turned. "I'll be back soon, although, I would appreciate it if you would notify Dumbledore."

She nodded, tears percolating in her eyes. She wiped them away, and the moment Harry was out of sight, he stepped down into the chamber. Harry stepped over a pile of bones at the bottom of the tunnel and passed the snake skin, running his hand along it in awe. The Basilisk had to be fifty, if not seventy feet long! He entered the chamber proper, stepping past the ornate stone effigies of snakes, and steeled himself.

He craned his neck upwards to look at the giant carved face at the end of the hall. The wizard was perhaps good looking when he was younger, but now he looked to possess all the wisdom of Merlin, with a sweeping beard and handsome robes. Salazar Slytherin, Harry presumed.

Face down before a pool, at the feet of the long-dead sorcerer, was a robed redheaded girl, lying face down on the cold, damp floor.

 _Ginny Weasley?_

Harry felt fairly shocked at her presence. He approached her slowly, holding the mirror up before him.

"Wise of you." A voice from Ginny's direction echoed through the cavernous chamber. "Carrying the mirror with you."

A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against a nearby effigy, looking for all the world relaxed and comfortable. The boy pushed off the pillar and slid over towards Harry. Harry took the boy's appearance in. He was slightly translucent and had no mind of his own to brush against. Although his vision may be deceiving him, Harry could have sworn the boy was growing more solid by the minute.

"Thank you." Harry set the rooster down. "You must be… Tom Riddle."

"You know me?"

"I know you opened the chamber fifty years ago."

Harry scanned the boy and found no wand on him, Harry didn't relax but he did turn to take in Ginny Weasley's appearance. She was as white as a sheet and looked deathly cold. Her eyes were closed, but seemed to flutter as though having a terrible nightmare. She didn't twitch as though she was deeply dreaming, though, she was as still as the stone she laid on.

"You're a non-being. A shade, or perhaps a wraith."

Tom Riddle seemed to be examining him with rich, dark eyes. "It would be more accurate to refer to me as a memory. Preserved within the diary Ginny carried."

The boy gestured towards the girl, next to whom an innocuous black book lay. Harry turned his wand towards the boy. Tom chuckled and raised transparent hands in faux surrender.

Harry incanted and levitated Ginny. Still glancing around warily.

"Oh? Leaving so soon, Harry?"

"It's fair to assume that you control the chamber and the Basilisk. The only question then is if I can save her before she dies, or before you can stop me. That, or the rooster crows and the Basilisk dies. It seems to me that you can't stop me Tom."

"You're not curious?"

"You possessed the girl with your diary, forced her to do those deeds. I could do it too, with time."

"Perhaps," Riddle fell into step beside Harry, feet making no sound on the wet floor. "She poured her soul into my diary, and eventually, I was able to pour my soul into her."

Something in that struck him.

"I grew stronger from her emotions. And now, I have the privilege of meeting you." That was eerie to Harry. It felt… familiar.

Moving past how he grew stronger, he ignored how Tom was attempting to draw Harry somewhere in this conversation.

"Your soul? Not your mind? You said you were a memory, but memories have no role in soul magic."

Harry's progress was slow. He had to keep checking his corners for the Basilisk and encouraging the rooster to crow with some manipulations of the creatures mind.

Tom stiffened. "You're well-read Harry. I wanted to meet you, you see, I had to know more about the boy who would destroy the greatest sorcerer in the world, when he was nothing but a baby."

"You're referring to Voldemort."

You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry - I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"You didn't."

Tom gave him a look at that. "You believe that you have surpassed me?" Harry shook his head. His progress remained too slow, only halfway to the chamber exit. He looked down at Ginny.

She wouldn't make it.

"My understanding is that Albus Dumbledore defeated you in several duels, with several great magical discoveries under his belt. Furthermore, Nicholas Flamel is alive and I have never heard anything about Tom Riddle producing _any_ incredible magical discoveries."

Before Tom could reply, a voice spoke from Harry's mirror. It was Dumbledore.

"Harry? Are you alright? Tell me everything." There was more urgency in Dumbledore's voice than Harry had ever heard. He set Ginny down and turned some attention to the mirror, glancing back at the diary. In the past few minutes he had accomplished little at all.

"Professor, you should avert your eyes from the mirror so I can use it to look around."

Harry didn't look to make sure that Dumbledore had done so.

"Tom Riddle is here, Sir, he has some sort of diary, some sort of artifact. It possessed Ginny Weasley and is giving him some form. I don't understand the specifics, Sir."

"Tom Riddle? Harry have you stunned him? You must-"

"He has no real form, Sir."

There was a pause as Harry checked a corner with the mirror.

"Harry, can you bring me the diary? I believe we can save Ms. Weasley if I-"

Tom decided that he couldn't tolerate any such thing. _"Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four."_

Harry spun towards the statue and saw its mouth slowly opening with a grinding noise. Harry scrambled for cover behind an effigy, averting his gaze from what he knew to be the most dangerous eyes in the world. Harry dropped his mirror in his scramble to hide.

"Harry? Harry are you there?!"

Tom picked up the mirror and gazed into it. Before throwing it across the chamber where it shattered.

Something huge scraped across the stone floor of the Chamber, and Harry realized he had left the rooster behind. He heard it squawk pitifully, then nothing. He looked around wildly. He had to find something to transfigure, and the effigies were steeped in magic so thick he couldn't hope to overcome it.

He took his shoe off and transfigured it into another rooster. He urged it to crow and he heard another loud thump, followed by the lap of disturbed water. He guessed that the snake fell into the pool at the base of the statue.

"No!" Tom roared.

Harry emerged from behind the snake statue slowly, and turned towards where the snake fell. He hadn't considered that it might be a ploy to convince him it was dead until it was too late he had already-

But the snake was dead, and its yellow eyes had faded to a pale green in death. It was massive, twenty-five meters long, perhaps, and much of it lay in the pool. Harry walked back towards it.

"You're too late, Potter, I _shall_ regain form, you won't make it to Dumbledore in time. Your mudblood mother bought you twelve years, but Voldemort always gets his due." Harry looked down at the poor girl and felt… something inside him, it was cold. Something wrenched at the sight of her body.

Harry tore across the chamber towards the diary.

" _Praefigo!_ " The piercing hex had no effect.

" _Lacero! Incendio! Compungo!_ " The lacerating curse, fire conjuration and piercing curse left no marks upon the diary.

"Such dark magic, Harry, but nothing but the most potent of magical spells will affect my diary. You cannot stop me."

 _Potent magical spells?_

Harry's eyes drifted to the Basilisk.

 _The most destructive magical venom in the world. A few drops could dissolve my arm._

Harry used the cutting curse and ripped a tooth free from the maw of the monster, used _Carpe Retractum_ to pull it towards him.

"No! Stop!"

 _Too late Tom. Maybe try for four?_

Harry caught it with the skill of a seeker and stabbed the tooth deep into the diary, leaving jagged cuts. The book bled ink all across the floor of the chamber and released an ear-rending scream. Riddle fell to floor convulsing, the shredding of the diary leaving duplicate wounds across the transparent flesh of the shade. Then, there was silence.

Harry picked himself up and put his wand away, breathing heavily. He held the Basilisk fang in his hand and placed the diary in his robe pocket. He stood and walked towards the surviving rooster in the chamber. It was still puttering around, while the other had been violently strangled by Riddle. He reversed the transfiguration and was grateful to slip his shoe back on. His sock was wet inside, but he shoved it uncomfortably in with a warming charm.

There was a small moan as Ginny Weasley began to stir. Harry held his wand on her just in case some lingering influences remained as she slowly regained her awareness. Her eyes trailed from the hulking form of the dead snake to Harry and his ink soaked robes. She drew in a great breath and began to sob.

Harry caught her eye.

There were traces of Tom within her. They might never leave but she seemed to be the master of herself right now. Perhaps for the first time since summer.

"Harry, I-"

" _Stupefy._ "

Just to be safe.

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When Harry crested the stairs with Ginny in tow, he found himself face to face with a foot-long knotted wand, and the hard eyes of Albus Dumbledore. The man seemed to sag with relief and Harry could see Myrtle floating behind him.

"Can you prove, that you aren't acting under the imperius curse, Harry?"

Harry frowned and looked down stroking his jaw. After a moment he asked the headmaster "Can you?"

The headmaster lowered the wand, seemingly satisfied with Harry's answer.

"You didn't die," Myrtle said with a sigh.

"Sorry," Harry said, brow creased. "Perhaps next year?"

Dumbledore winced, but Myrtle flushed silver. "Oh, well… I'd just been thinking… if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet."

"Generous of you," Harry replied diplomatically.

"Harry, where is the diary? Is Ms. Weasley still alive?"

Harry extracted the diary from his robes, corroded and damaged as it was, and handed it to the Headmaster. "She is alright, I stunned her in case any trace of Tom remained. I… _checked,_ but..."

"It's alright, Harry, to take precautions, especially around such things as this. When the mirror broke I feared the worst, however, it seems you managed to defeat Tom once again. Come now, I am sure Ms. Weasley's family would be delighted to hear of her condition, and a trip to the hospital wing might do you both well." The Headmaster gazed down at the diary. "Brilliant of course, absolutely brilliant, Tom Riddle may have been the second greatest student to grace the school with his presence."

"After you, of course," Harry surmised.

"Oh," The headmaster gave a strange smile, "I think not."

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Harry was released from the hospital wing the next morning, and was immediately set upon by his friends. He told them the story of his confrontation.

"I shouldn't make a habit of checking into the hospital wing so often. Madam Pomfrey threatened to label the bed with my name," he finished.

"You. Could. Have. Been. Killed." Daphne hit him, punctuating each word with a strike to his arm.

"Everything went according to my plan."

"You had a list of statements. That isn't a plan."

"It worked though," Neville defended, immediately shrinking under her sudden scrutiny.

"That doesn't make it a _good_ idea," Lisa stole in.

"Ginny would have died and Voldemort would have a body if he didn't do what he did. Besides, Dumbledore approved. He gave Harry, like, a hundred points and an award for special services to the school-"

Harry frowned at the reminder. He was… similar to Tom Riddle. Halfbloods, talented, orphans, raised by muggles, both with special awards to the school for finding and catching the heir of slytherin. They even looked somewhat alike.

"-Could you imagine You-Know-Who lose inside the school? How many people would have died? If he had a body he would have just killed Harry anyway-"

Lisa winced at that.

"-Sorry" Tracey apologized, "but it is true."

"You're making a habit of this Harry, twice is coincidence. And of _course_ you charge in to save the Weasley girl."

Harry winced, "I can't stop opposing Voldemort, Daphne."

"You didn't know you were opposing You-Know-Who when you went in. You're twisting history to support you!"

She seemed to notice his hesitation. "What? What is it? Is it about Weasley? I-"

"She had Voldemort in her head for almost a year." Harry said softly. He looked up and met her eyes. "Can you _imagine_?"

Daphne sucked in a breath, along with whatever she was about to say.

"I think," Lisa began, "we should cut her a break."

Daphne nodded in agreement.

'That doesn't explain how you knew were the chamber was." Tracey prompted after another moment of horrified silence.

"Lovegood." Harry replied, thinking fast. He had to give a satisfactory explanation.

"Lovegood? The batty girl from Ravenclaw?" Tracey asked.

"How could she have known?" Lisa asked.

"It is fairly odd." Neville supported.

They looked at him expectantly. "She's a seer. She told me where to find it. She saw me opening the entrance. From there, I knew what to do."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"She's an actual seer?" Daphne asked slowly, almost warily.

"It would explain a lot about her, most seers go completely bonkers," Tracey supported.

It was true, the ancient greek seer Asimina was precognizant. She could see the future days ahead of time, except totally devoid of people, just objects moving and their effect on the world. A North American seer who could note Arithmetic probabilities with prescient accuracy hung himself just a few years ago. The French diviner Nostradamus resorted to drugs from his apothecary, and another, Rasputin, turned to drinking and hedonism to deal with the truth he saw. It was also suspected that the potions Nostradamus invented, he stole from his future self or others.

In fact, the oracle Cassandra in Hellenistic Greece was rarely believed regarding her visions _because_ she was sane. The people at the time argued she was _too_ sane to be able to divine the future.

 _Only the mad could be trusted with the future._

"Wait, so she saw you go there, but you wouldn't have gone there unless she said she saw you go there…" Tracey trailed off.

"That's actually been bothering me," Harry muttered. He resolved to research what was known about time to know for certain. "I believe she sees a single path in the future which will happen. Other seers often report a kaleidoscope of events which could change on a dime."

"It's a paradox, isn't it?" Neville said.

"More like recursion, you know? He wouldn't have gone if he wouldn't have gone and then he wouldn't have gone and so on," Lisa tried.

"We're off topic," Daphne mediated.

"The original topic is a moot point. If you could have gotten into the chamber, which you couldn't, then you couldn't have helped me be any more successful." Harry stated firmly.

"That's kind of arrogant, Harry," Neville said softly.

"But not inaccurate," Lisa returned, content to play devil's advocate in this case.

"Can we just go to the celebration feast?" Harry asked with finality. "We're all just going to have to agree to disagree."

Harry stood to leave just as Hermione stepped in. "You solved it! You have to tell me everything!"

Harry groaned.

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The feast which celebrated the safety of the school lasted all day, and into no small portion of the night. The castle's inhabitants were ecstatic that they were safe, or that their friends had returned.

Daphne finally cornered him alone in the room they used. It was magically expanded now, and the small windows had been stretched to cover a large part of the far wall. They had a great view over the lake and surrounding countryside. A single long table sat towards the end, and Daphne had been attempting to change the room's colors and light fixtures. The room looked haphazard now, perhaps even more so than when it had only been slightly expanded, and Harry understood little about what Daphne had in mind.

"This is the part where you tell me about what you did to Professor Lockhart," she said, closing the door and striding past the table towards him. "The mind magic you did."

Harry knew he couldn't obliviate her; well, he could, but it would be a shoddy attempt and it would likely fail or cause damage to her mind. He looked at his notebook. It was more than it was before, in light of Riddle's diary. Inside was the culmination of his ideas and dreams. He had outlined a section for his spells and the notes he took on spell creation. His very heart and soul were in the book.

He turned away from his journal and out over the black lake. More so he didn't _want_ her to forget. Well, he wanted her not to know, but he didn't want to abuse her in such a way. It made his heart tug in a similar fashion to when he hurt Luna.

He considered what he felt; it was guilt. He himself had felt it rarely in his life but he recognized it from when Daphne challenged Draco Malfoy to a duel in his stead and had been shifting about.

He remembered looking down on poor Ginny Weasley and feeling… pity? Empathy? Despair? Remorse? It had elements of all those things, and had tugged at his heart, spurring him to action. What did it mean though? What drove him now? He took a deep breath.

"You know I've been practicing the Mind Arts," he started, feeling that if he looked at her no he might lose his bottle.

"I knew you were practicing occlumency, and maybe some others, you never mentioned legilimency."

This was a fair point. "And?" He prompted. "You already seem to have come to the answer. Why are you asking me?"

"You said you could learn occlumency by having someone attack your mind. You can do it now." He could do it then too, but he let her make her own assumptions.

"Then I want to learn occlumency."

There it was, and he didn't know how to feel about it. It was in effect an open invitation to raid her mind. To practice against someone consciously resisting; something he had long desired. But it would also hurt her, and that, it would seem, softened something in his chest. He would also lose access to her mind, in the long run. He had learned a great deal from her thoughts, and he was unsure their relationship could survive if he didn't already know what she wanted by reading them.

He turned, looking up at her. "You don't know what you are asking." He fingered his wand with both hands, running his fingers against it calmingly.

"Then tell me." She didn't back down, wasn't going to. She knew that she wanted this. It would make her a greater witch, expand on her talents and let her grow. She had been feeling like he was leaving her behind for a while. It was a fair assessment.

"You would have no secrets from me. Your every thought and memory would be mine to access. It would be painful. Agonizing, even."

"You didn't hurt Lockhart when you did that to him. You didn't even need a wand." Daphne stepped back. "Are you in my head right now?"

"Lockhart is weak-willed and he didn't detect the breach or fight it, it would have hurt him to do so. I didn't need a wand because I didn't need to do much to convince him. He already wanted to abandon his charges." He paused. "No, I'm not in your head."

"But someone else could be, someone else might attack me, and I want the benefits that come with being an Occlumens. The more focused casting, the greater control; all of it." She stepped more directly in front of him. "Harry, please, I want to know this stuff. I _need_ to know it."

Harry waivered. He could say no. He _should_ say no. But she was asking him. Trusting him. It was hard to say no to that.

"Alright." She grinned. "I'll teach you." There was a pause.

"Well?" She asked.

Harry laughed. "You want me to breach your mind, now? Do you know how to detect a breach? Do you know how to repel one?"

"W-Well no, so tell me how."

Harry shook his head. "After summer break. Listen," he said when she opened her mouth. "I'll do it, but only after you've practiced and mastered basic occlumency exercises. You have your father's book, it's a good start. I'll put together a list of exercise for you to do as well, and loan you my books. When you've read them and I'm confident that it won't be an exercise in futility, _then_ I will attempt to breach your mind, and you will attempt to repel me. Not before."

She pouted slightly, before giving in. There was no point arguing when she had already technically won. "Well, then you better get started with my list." She tried to remain calm, but he could feel her glee.

He sighed. She had no idea what she was getting into.

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The last weeks of school went by in a blur. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lockhart had up and disappeared. Summoned away or, in Harry's opinion, fled the night Ginny Weasley was taken into the Chamber. Harry didn't particularly care either way. He still took first in the class, with Daphne taking second this time. She was ecstatic that she hadn't lost to Hermione, but she still struggled with how she felt about losing again to Harry, despite knowing she would.

The biggest change for Harry, was that he no longer perused Daphne's thoughts at leisure. Instead, he struggled to tell what she was thinking and tried to respond accordingly. There were no hang-ups yet, but he firmly believed that it would happen eventually.

Naturally, Hermione finished her spell. She wanted to try it in a duel, but Harry and Daphne were the only ones who could duel her in any sort of competitive manner. She perhaps realized that, regardless of how she worked her magic, it would be ineffectual against Harry, and Harry had been determined to prevent _any_ sort of fighting between Daphne and her.

Then it was time to go home. Harry packed his things up and returned the books he had taken from the library. Neville's toad had been found in Snape's office, hiding amongst jars of his pickled brethren. When they boarded the train, the countryside blurred by and the time flew by far too fast for Harry's liking.

"Do you think your family would be proud, if they knew what you did this year?" Hermione asked him.

Harry laughed. "My family would be furious I didn't die," he informed her with a maudlin smile. "Think about it, I could have been killed several times and I just didn't quite manage it."

Hermione looked aghast at that, as Harry stood to leave the compartment and step out onto the platform.

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" _'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'" Cassius, from Julius Caesar by Shakespeare_

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 **I'm Looking for a Beta-reader, so message me if you are interested.**

 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **WG**

Edited 1/31/18


	7. The Tower

_Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **Perhaps my greatest chapter. Even before Digitize27 began to edit. They kindly agreed to Beta read my chapters. They have, by far, improved upon my prose in a style that blends well with my own.**

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 _In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate" -Asimov_

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Grindelwald looked out over the frigid sea before him, as he had a million times before. His one view out of his one window in his tiny cell was the same as ever. It remained static, unchanged, while his body fell prey to the adamant march of time. Once rich and thick hair had fallen from his head, his teeth rotted out. He had no mirror, but he could imagine his sickly appearance. Imagine it enough to compare it to the memory of his younger self.

He sat hunched on his bed with his chin held up, eyes held straight even as they shook.

Powerful and decrepit.

His cell was filthy and so was he. A filthy lord of darkness imprisoned in his own tower. Trapped beneath enchantments he himself had woven. He felt rage, but it was so far away. Muted not only by time, but by futility.

 _Dumbledore._

He had lost.

 _Dumbledore._

He cursed again.

 _Dumbledore._

He repeated in his head.

 _Dumbledore_.

He was betrayed.

 _Albus._

His friend had turned on him. Left him and everything he could have been, everything he had envisioned, to rot in this blasted tower.

And rot he had. Fungus thrived across the moist stonework and his earliest attempts to remain clean and apart from it had been doomed to failure. He had given up on that, too.

He knew his mind decayed, could feel it. Perhaps the knowledge of his own dilapidation was just as much a burden as the sickness itself. He fell into ruin.

He was alone, like he had been before he met his friend. He had spent his life out-matching others. His peers in Durmstrang could not compete with him. They could not understand him.

He had been alone there, too.

But then he met his friend, somebody who could stand beside him.

He thought of the girl who died in Godric's hollow. The girl Albus' brother had loved and whom Albus himself had loathed.

The murdered girl.

Her death had taken everything from him. Split his one and only relationship apart at the seams. His dreams had been shattered. He looked around his room, no larger than a cupboard. The sky had turned dark.

 _Sleep, then._

In sleep, at least, there was no boredom. He was dying, he knew. Sleeping his remaining years away.

He had believed that the new one, Voldemort would come for him. Not to free him with any offer of partnership or any such nonsense. But for his knowledge. To learn from him. But, he hadn't.

It was a different kind of betrayal but, like everything he felt now, it was a distant thing and he almost felt as betrayed by this 'Voldemort' as he had by Dumbledore. His knowledge, it seemed, would freeze with him in this prison. He had been a great wizard who knew more about conjuration, charms, and transfiguration in all the world, save one. His equal.

He had never attempted to escape his tower. He knew it was pointless. He had built this place brick by brick and enchanted it from the ground up. His palace was impenetrable and, when the Germans came to ensure that there were no weaknesses in the structure, they had been incinerated or pulverized.

This place was his home.

 _Death would have been preferable._

This place was his tomb.

Albus however, in all his laudable cruel mercy, had allowed him to live.

He curled up on his bed. It was a single mold-ridden mattress with a thin blanket.

It was just as frozen as he was.

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Harry's summer at the Longbottoms' had been spent well. He opened his window to receive Hedwig, whom he fed treats from his hand while he took the proffered letter. There, outside, on the windowsill, on the second story, was Trevor the Toad. Harry shut the window, ignoring the improbable amphibian, to open his letter.

He had received his Outstanding NEWT in muggle studies from the ministry, as he knew he would after going through the appropriate channels within the education department.

It was merely his first, and it hadn't taken any appreciable effort. It felt cheap in his hands when he held it. He scowled and pushed it aside.

"Harry! Harry, did you see the news?" It was Neville knocking at Harry's door while Harry sat cross legged on his bed reading. Harry gestured, and the door swung open.

Neville rushed through in its wake, holding up a copy of the daily prophet. The front line read in clear bold:

 **MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE**

 **Arthur Weasley, Head of the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.**

Harry looked at Neville. He quickly gestured for Harry to open the paper.

 **PETER PETTIGREW REMAINS AT LARGE**

Harry looked at Neville. The boy deflated slightly.

"Peter Pettigrew, Harry," the boy sighed.

"Who is he?" Harry asked.

"He's Death Eater, a loyal one."

"So…"

"So, he's going to try and kill you! Here, read."

Harry accepted the parchment and turned it in his hands. He skimmed it lightly, not knowing what he was supposed to be getting excited, or from Neville's less-than-subtle insinuations, frightened about.

Harry handed it back after a moment.

"Why would he try to kill me?" Harry asked as he did so. There was nothing in it to indicate any kind of agenda, no motive no murder.

"Because he's loyal to You-Know-Who, Harry. He could-"

"I'm not Voldemort's enemy though."

Neville gave him a perplexed look. "You stopped him."

"...When I was a baby. With no magical powers. In a freak accident."

Neville seemed to pause. "What about at first year?"

"I was there by accident, and Pettigrew couldn't know that."

Neville hesitated. His mind was reaching for something he could say to counter the other teen. Harry turned back to his book.

"Sorry Neville. I doubt he'll be hunting for me in-particular."

"So… it doesn't bother you that he's free?"

"Well…"

Neville leaned forward in interest.

"-It does mean that Azkaban is less secure than I believed."

"You're an odd wizard, Harry," Neville sighed. "Well, it seems someone in the ministry believes Pettigrew would be interested in you, or at least Hogwarts."

Harry looked up, blinking.

"Wait, why?"

Neville turned back towards Harry's door, already making his way back out.

"Well, they're stationing the Dementors at Hogwarts."

Harry blanched at that, at a complete loss for words.

"Oh, uh, Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry grinned back, his smile stretching across his face. He gestured to a package on his desk. It sat next to a neat stack of summer homework. "That's for you, Happy Birthday Neville." It was just a book on selective breeding in magical plants.

Neville frowned. "I was wondering why my remembrall was turning red, I forgot to get you anything-"

Harry interrupted him with a laugh, waving him off. "Don't worry about it, Neville."

Neville laughed nervously and picked up the package before departing.

Harry let the smile drop from his face, rubbing his jaw with his thumb and closing his book on intermediate magical theory to instead flick open his journal. He made a mental note to return to Diagon Alley and practice his Legilimency on any passers-by and marked down an idea he had when he thought about the book he gave Neville.

 _Could the same muggle plant hybridization processes be applied to magical ones?_

That would be… important. Not necessarily revolutionary, but it could reduce the prices of magical ingredient, make potions cheaper, and perhaps lower some costs for medical treatments.

It was interesting. The sort of thing that wouldn't quite rival Dumbledore's achievements but…

Harry needed to read more.

He turned his attention to another letter.

 **Dear Mr. Potter,**

 **Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.**

 **Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.**

 **A list of books for next year is enclosed.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Professor M. McGonagall**

 **Deputy Headmistress**

Harry found his permission slip. He set it aside to leave out for Madam Longbottom to sign. He assumed that she could, or he would have to prevail on his true guardian to do it.

Harry had no other letters. His friends could always contact him by mirror if they wished to talk to him. Harry had already been informed by Daphne that he would be joining her in Diagon Alley tomorrow for school shopping.

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Neville had to run into to Diagon Alley to pick up a gift for Harry. It was a sneakoscope. A cheap magical device designed to whirl when it was around someone untrustworthy. Naturally, it shrieked constantly around Harry who practically lived within the private thoughts of others. Neville delivered it before chasing after his grandmother. She had been persuaded by some reading material she had seen that it would be for the best if Neville had his own wand.

By that, Harry meant he had slowly influenced her mind over the summer that Neville needed his own wand. It was true. Neville could never reach his full talent with an imperfectly-matched wand.

Meanwhile, Harry escaped to the muggle world to pick up a book on the changes made to muggle plants over the past century. He had received an odd glance from the cashier when he rang up the purchase, but Harry had practise ignoring such looks.

That left Harry loitering in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for Daphne to join him. He glanced down at his watch. He was early enough that it was still half an hour before their agreed upon time.

He took a seat and glanced at his watch again but not for the time. He made an absent note to enchant it to do something more than tell time.

Harry waited patiently until three blonde heads walked into the Leaky Cauldron. It was Daphne, who smiled at him, her mother, and her little sister.

 _It would be her sister's first year._

Harry recalled.

"Hello," he greeted politely.

Daphne rolled his eyes at him and, though he longed to know what she was thinking, he stayed his metaphorical hand.

"Hello again, Mr. Potter. Daphne has told us so much about you." Ms. Greengrass was beautiful _and_ polite. It was a familiar game for Harry to be polite to his elders.

"More like she wouldn't shut up." Astoria crossed her arms and gave him a look.

Harry picked up his book in its bag.

"You started without, me?" Daphne asked indignantly.

Harry shook his head. "It's not for school."

"One of these projects Daphne mentioned?" Ms. Greengrass looked curious. The elder Greengrass was a potioneer and most likely the source of Daphne's talent for the subject. When Mr. Greengrass passed she'd had little choice but to pick up any job she could, but the woman was truly a potioneer at heart.

"Perhaps." Harry returned thumbing his jawline. "I need to read more to even continue to consider it."

The woman nodded before gesturing. "Come on, we need to pick up my Little Star's wand first." Astoria blushed in embarrassment as her mother used a pet name.

"Oh… I was hoping Harry and I could go do our shopping now." Daphne got out nervously.

"You're not coming with your sister to get her first wand?" Ms. Greengrass looked surprised.

"I don't need her there," Astoria piped up.

"It's not about need, it's about going as a family." The woman worried her lip the same way Daphne did as she either struggled with the decision, or struggled with how to let Daphne down about it.

"I don't want to get in the way," Harry interjected. "I can wait while Astoria gets a wand."

Daphne gave him a betrayed look while her mother looked sheepish. "Are you sure?" She asked.

Harry nodded. "I'll just wait here."

Daphne sighed and was marched off with her family with barely a backwards glance. Harry took his seat again. He considered opening his book, but he knew as soon as he started studying seriously Daphne would get back and he'd have to shift focus.

A hag approached him offering what looked like a full plate of raw meat. Liver, at a guess. Harry stiffly turned her down and a shout from Tom sent her from the bar.

Daphne's family returned with Astoria waving her wand. Harry found he couldn't recognize the wood by sight. He frowned. He needed to do some reading about that.

"Come on Harry," Daphne said as soon as she returned. "We need to get you some new robes."

Harry stood, picking his stuff up. It was true; he did need new robes. He had grown three inches over the summer, and the ones he was wearing didn't fit very well.

"Stay safe you two," Ms. Greengrass informed them as they left. "And not a single step down Knockturn Alley!"

Daphne wrung her hands slightly as they walked. He wasn't the only one to grow over the summer, and she was almost taller than him now. He eyed her hands. She was nervous about something.

Harry was immediately set on edge. He was tempted to poke her brain to learn what was bothering her, but he wasn't sure how far she had progressed with her exercises. She might immediately detect him and, if what he remembered about her mind was right, she wouldn't take too kindly to that.

"Is Tracey going to join us?" He asked.

She glanced away into Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the new firebolt hung in the front window.

"No… it's just me," she replied, getting Harry to nod. "I told my mom how many classes you were taking and how many extracurricular classes you had elected for. She was worried you were going to be overwhelmed."

It was possible. The extracurricular classes mostly involved presenting projects at the end of the year to certain teachers, with certain specialized guidelines that were designed to allow teachers to monitor a student's self education. Harry would have several of them to do this year.

Harry shrugged. "I'll keep up, I think."

"Well you _are_ so far ahead in our core classes." She paused. "Plus, you have the advantages of Occlumency and Augeomancy."

He nodded. It was true. His memory was, he assumed, well above average due to his inclination towards the subtler magical arts.

"I've been practicing those exercises from the list you gave me," Daphne blurted uncharacteristically. "I cleared my mind at night before bed and whenever I was feeling any strong emotions."

 _She wants to practice Occlumency, then._

"You're not doing it now," Harry returned. "You seem nervous."

She almost glared at him but instead focused on doing just that. It took her a while, and they had reached Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions by the time she succeeded.

"It's alright," Harry reassured her. "It's not easy and you seem distracted." Of course, she would be much more distracted if an attacker was rooting around inside her head.

She pulled several robes off the racks and held them out for him to try on and, after nearly half an hour getting in and out of robes, he left with a new wardrobe which could fit his growing form better. Harry briefly described the project he was considering, and Daphne told him about several changes she wanted to make to the room when they got back. She was confident that they could change the room to cause a secret passageway to form to somewhere else in the castle, but Harry remained dubious.

"The Castle likes to shift and change. It's magic will do most of the work. We just have to push it in the right direction."

"Or the ambient magic will resist our attempts to change it." Harry pointed out.

They swung by the book store and left with several armfuls of books before taking a seat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. It was there that Daphne finally asked him the question which had been bothering her.

"Do you think I'm ready? For the occlumency lessons?"

Harry thought it was appropriate not to patronise her and agree out right, and so he gave it a moment of serious thought. "You took a while to bring your emotions under control today."

"Well I don't know how you do it, although it explains how you're so calm all the time."

"We could try," Harry said at last. "I'll never know for sure if you are ready unless I make the attempt."

She grinned and he shook his head. "This will hurt." Her smile faltered slightly.

"I can do it!" She maintained, after a moment to regather her courage.

"Fine." Harry's short answer shocked her more than any attempt he made to dissuade her. "I will attempt to breach your mind and you will attempt to repel me. Are you ready?"

She huffed. She was getting impatient, but she bit back some words. He met her eye. Harry touched a silver strand of memory lightly, coaxing out a memory of visiting this same ice cream shop when she was younger. Harry withdrew at once.

"Well?" She asked now she was getting impatient.

"You failed." She looked shocked.

"Wait when? Just now? I-"

"I managed to chase a memory of you visiting this shop with your father."

She didn't flinch, but it was close. She looked down at her ice cream bowl and pushed the last of it around inside with her spoon. "Oh I… I thought I would do better."

"Why? It was your first attempt." Naturally, Harry had managed to detect Dumbledore that first day back in Little Whinging, but he also knew he was a terrible benchmark for this sort of thing.

"Have you practiced?" Daphne asked. "What was your first attempt?"

 _I detected a breach orchestrated by the most powerful extent wizard in the world._

"No one has ever breached my mind repeatedly. It's not like I could ask Dumbledore or Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape and the Headmaster are Legilimens?"

Harry nodded.

"I didn't even know. Anyone could get into my mind, couldn't they? I have no defenses."

Harry sighed. "It'll take time. It's not easy at all."

Daphne looked up at him again. "Harry, what could you do with someone's mind?"

Harry paused. "Nearly anything."

She swallowed. "Like what?"

"The Imperius curse has its roots in Legilimency, it's a spell which provides a shortcut for advanced mind magic." Harry thumbed his jaw. "The memory and cheering charms too, they're similar extensions. I could indoctrinate someone slowly to my will if I had time. Using pavlovian reactions intended to coerce them and reform certain behaviors."

She looked up at him, terrified, but he could also see her resolve to learn had only strengthened.

"Like what happened with Weasley?"

Harry nodded. "It probably wouldn't even be difficult with enough time. Voldemort's _teenage diary_ could do it. That's assuming that the Voldemort used the same methods."

"Will you try it again on me? Please? I know I didn't do all that well." She was worrying her lip again. "How am I supposed to… defend myself if I can't even recognize it?"

Harry paused thinking it through. "Alright. I'll try again, I'll make it more obvious."

Harry was in her mind again, but her body didn't stir at all. She wasn't reacting at all to his presence.

Was she… used to his incursions inside her head? Was he indoctrinating her to him slowly? It was… troublingly possible. Sobering, actually.

Harry stiffened his mental tendrils and grasped a cluster of silvery threads. He received sound and lights. It was her perspective of meeting him on the train.

"I… I feel that. You're at my…"

"Can you repel me?" He asked.

"I-I-I." She stuttered. She wasn't in much pain, but she was panicking slightly. Her mind roiled and Harry coaxed it to calm and regain equilibrium.

"I can't stop…" She was struggling, shivering at the feel of his mental fingers brushing across her mind.

Harry followed her thoughts. This cluster… it was full of her father.

"No-o-o don't…" Harry had never been so deep in a person's mind since the Dursleys. The memories and emotions were intoxicating. She squirmed in place, and Harry clutched tighter to the threads, running along them to the center of the web.

She gasped.

Harry reached for her memories of her father but what he saw with his actual eyes made him recoil from her thoughts.

She was nearly crying. "I couldn't stop you. I didn't know it would be so - so -so…"

"Painful?" Harry asked. He offered her a napkin to wipe her eyes. She took it and hid her face from him.

"I-it didn't hurt until the end when I tried to fight so hard. The rest of the time it-it felt…"

Harry waited for her to finish.

"I didn't know you would see everything." She finished at last.

She felt embarrassed and invaded and… something else.

"I told you that I would."

"Y-you did." She was gathering herself. "What would you do if I fought you?"

"I could make you feel pain. Or I could just sneak in and not fight."

She paused. "That's not what I meant. What if you wanted something from someone who was an Occlumens. What would you do?"

"There's a lot I could do. I could hurt you until you showed me what I wanted, and then I would reward you every time you cooperated."

"Reward? What do yo-"

Daphne's mother walked over to them. "I see you're both already finished shopping as well? Well I'm afraid I'm going to have to take Daphne from you, Harry. Do you mind if I call you Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "That's alright with me, ma'am"

She laughed. "Ma'am?" She asked.

"He speaks to everyone like that, Mom." Daphne told her as she gathered her stuff and stood.

"Such a polite boy. I'm sure your parents are worried about you as well." The woman paused and held her hand over her mouth in horror at her faux pas. But before she could apologize Harry felt something familiar.

[Harry.]

There was a polite tap on Harry's mental shoulder. Harry turned his head immediately and quickly away from Ms. Greengrass. Astoria and Daphne quickly looked in the same direction. Dumbledore was standing just outside of Ollivander's.

"I'd like to think you'd be right, ma'am." Harry said aloud as Ms. Greengrass saw the twinkling eyed man.

"The Headmaster? What is he doing here? I would ha-"

"He's Harry's legal guardian," Daphne said, waving and pulling her mother. "I'll see you at school, Harry." She was trying to smile but she struggled with the overwhelming emotions. The embarrassment was still there, but that third emotion was…. It left Harry feeling a little flustered. Harry dismissed it quickly.

He nodded and returned a wave. "I'll see you September Ninth."

He stood but Dumbledore was already approaching him even as Daphne left.

"Have a good summer, young man?" His grandfather figure asked with twinkling eyes. "Making time to meet friends is more than a little important."

He nodded. "Sir? I didn't expect you."

"Nor should you have." Dumbledore said in a clarifying tone. As though he had just provided Harry with some insight.

There was a beat where Harry looked at the headmaster expectantly and Dumbledore simply glanced around Diagon alley, smiling brightly and playing at complete obliviousness.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Harry asked, deciding to spring the trap and play the Headmaster's game.

"Why don't we take a walk?"

Harry gathered his things and began to follow.

"Harry, what do you know about Peter Pettigrew?"

"He's a Death Eater who broke out of Azkaban," Harry recounted. "I suspect that he must be fairly talented, given that he's the first to have done so."

"Or, perhaps, the ministry made a mistake which allowed him to escape?"

"Perhaps." Harry considered that. "But they've never done so before." Dumbledore nodded, giving him the point. "What's this about, sir?"

"Ever to the task, aren't you?" Dumbledore began. "You could learn to slow down a little." He gave a strange smile. "The ministry seems to believe that he may threaten you, and I agree that he could pose a threat to your well-being, which is why I wanted to ask you to avoid him, should you see him, and endeavor not to seek him out."

"I like to believe I avoid trouble headmaster."

"Will you tell me when you discover how? I should very much like to learn such an invaluable skill." His eyes twinkled knowingly. "I see you have completed your school shopping already. That's wise of you. Anything interesting that has caught your eye? No books on building enchantments for say… a particular room in Hogwarts?"

"As far as I'm aware I haven't broken any rules regarding that."

The Headmaster chuckled. "You have not. Hogwarts has many secrets. Many hidden rooms, even. What's one more? Now Harry, I'm afraid I must depart. With the school year so quickly approaching and attempting to remove the Dementors from the school grounds, my schedule has become quite frantic."

Harry struggled to imagine a frantic Dumbledore.

"Until next time, Professor."

The headmaster gave one last smile before turning and disappearing with a crack.

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Harry and Neville boarded the train _without_ the interference of a homicidal house elf this time around, and quickly located an empty compartment.

Tracey, Daphne and Hermione joined them shortly after. Harry imagined that Lisa must be with the other Ravenclaw girls.

He gave a worried glance to Daphne. She hadn't talked to him since they met the day after his birthday and he was more than concerned for how they had left things. The train started to pick up speed just as the conversation did the same.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Hermione asked nobody in particular, cooing at the sprawling cat in her lap. A mess of ginger fur that was so fluffy and thick Harry could only guess as to the creature's true size. It looked like it had run into a brick wall one too many times and its face was smashed and molded into a perpetual frown, giving the creature a distinctive and disgusted look.

"He's… unique," Harry returned, honest but diplomatically vague.

Daphne gave him an incredulous look which comforted him. It was part of her usual pattern.

"He suits you," Tracey commented more brightly. Harry gave her a measured look, trying to figure out if that was an insult. "So are any of you working on any life changing world making projects this year, or do you want to just be regular students for a change?"

"Hear, hear." Neville said chorusing his agreement.

It wasn't that either of them were poor students. Not really. But they couldn't hold a flame to Harry's talents nor Hermione's memory or Daphne's charm skills. Sure, Neville was an excellent herbolagist but it came up substantially less often than charms. How many projects had Neville not been able to work on with Harry because of that? Only all of them.

 _Though that may change._

Neville was an ideal source of assistance for Harry's latest ideas. Someone to bounce ideas around with at the least.

"Well… Now that we have classes like arithmancy, making spells will be so much easier, I think. I had an idea for a spell which could organize my notes before tests."

Tracey didn't so much as glance at Hermione. Barely shocked at what most would call a boring use of magic.

"Harry has something. Something Herbology related." Harry turned his eyes to Daphne and stroked his jaw.

"Maybe," he confessed. "I don't know if it will work, or how well. I was going to talk to you, Neville, about it later if I could."

"Me? Well I suppose so… If you really wanted to wo-"

"Oh my god. I was kidding!" Tracey said in exasperation, looking up at the roof of the train car. "Why can't we talk about Hogsmeade or something normal for once?! It's always enchant 'this' or invent 'that' with you people. You know Hogsmeade has a sweet shop where they have all kinds of things? Like, they have these balls of chocolate that are full of cherry cream, and they have every flavor of ice cream you can imagine. Well not _all_ of them, I guess. That's Bertie botts' wheelhouse. Anyways, the point is they have a _lot_ of flavors. There's also a diner where we can get butterbeer and fried food. Fried. Food. I mean Hogwarts food is amazing and all, but it's hard to beat something fried. Right? Imagine going down to Hogsmeade and getting a warm coco after one of those mid-winter chills."

"We could just stay inside and enjoy coco without going out in the cold at all." Neville muttered.

Tracey turned on him and opened her mouth.

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on regardless of whatever Tracey was going to say. " _In Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain -"

"-Anyway!" Tracey burst in. "I think it's going to be a lot of fun," she concluded resolutely, looked about at the compartment's inhabitants as if daring them to disagree. She gave a pointedly long look to Neville and Hermione.

"You'll have to let me know," Harry said, when the silence became too stifling.

"Wait. What? You are not bailing on this, Harry." Tracey turned on him. "You have to come with us."

Neville groaned. "My gran couldn't sign your slip then?"

Harry shook his head. "She's not my legal guardian."

"What about Professor Dumbledore, that day in the Alley?" Daphne asked.

"I didn't have my slip."

"So, what did you talk about then?" Daphne pressed.

"No! Hold on! You have to get him to sign your slip or else!" Tracey demanded. She was almost looming over him. " _Now_ , what did you and the Headmaster talk about?" Her tone becoming more polite.

"He informed me that he was worried about Peter Pettigrew and wanted to warn me about him in person."

"So the Headmaster thinks Pettigrew is a threat to you as well." Neville looked triumphant. It seems he hadn't forgotten their last discussion about this.

"Wait, that Death Eater who escaped? Why would he come after you?" Daphne appeared just as sceptical on the matter as Harry felt.

"Well he is a Death Eater, you know? You-Know-who's follower?" Hermione said.

Daphne turned to snap at Hermione, but Harry interrupted before she could. "That doesn't mean he would press Hogwarts or be concerned about me." He shrugged. "Hogwarts is pretty safe."

"Only from threats from the outside. The last two years haven't exactly screamed 'safety'." Tracey threw in her two knuts.

Harry shrugged again.

"I'm not going to worry about it. At least for now." Harry held up a silencing hand. "For _now_."

There was a knock at the door. Harry looked up to see Percy, Fred, George, and Ron Weasley. Hidden just to the side was their little sister.

"Ugh, Gryffindors," Daphne muttered under her breath.

Hermione reared back like a snake ready to strike while Neville didn't bother to rise to Daphne's rib at all. He knew that she said it only to bite at Hermione.

"I wonder what they want," Neville wondered.

Harry stood and opened the door.

There was an awkward silence when he did so.

"What can I do for you?" Harry asked after that moment passed.

"We-er, we just wanted to-" Ron began.

"We wanted to thank you for what you did for our sister," Percy finished for him with only a slightly pompous air. "Our family is very appreciative of what you did."

"Yeah, we seriously appreciate it mate," one of the twins added.

"She's our little sister," the other finished, nodding.

Harry turned his gaze to Ginny who was taken with him even before he saved her life. She turned red like a tomato and gave a nervous "hello" without actually looking at him.

Harry turned back to the cluster of older students. "It was nothing. I'm glad to see she's doing better. Is she progressing well with a mind healer?"

The twins shared a look while Ron scrunched his face.

"You didn't take her to a mind healer," Harry barely whispered.

 _Oh. My. God._

"Mind healers are expensive," Percy said with heat.

"More expensive than a trip to Egypt?" Daphne called from behind him.

Harry stepped through the doorway and shut it behind him.

"Are you crazy? She had Voldemort in her head for almost a year. I need to report this to the Headmas-ster. I'm fairly s-sure this qualifies-s as child abus-se." Harry said. He was getting emotional. Parseltongue and anger was affecting his speech. Ginny shook when the language of snakes slipped into his words. He focused and emptied his mind.

"What do you-" Ron began with his eyes narrowed before his brother interrupted him.

"We hadn't considered it," Percy admitted, looking pained.

"Though we probably should have," one of the twins said, the two of them sharing a look. Their faces were much more ashen than their brothers', which were flushing in embarrassment and anger.

"He could have done anything; warped her thoughts, changed her memories. Anything, with that much time," Harry shot back, straining to keep himself level.

"You're scaring her." Ron stepped closer.

"She _should_ be scared," Harry said, much more calm than he felt, but there was still heat in his tone. "I would, as her family, make this a priority."

Harry glanced at Ginny and caught her mind. A normal mind was a mess of clusters and webs and strings – even Lovegood's, scattered and maimed as it was, was like that – so nothing jumped out at him. Indeed, since every mind was unique, and he didn't know how hers looked before, he couldn't detect a change. That would be like asking him to identify and describe a person he had never met.

There were _traces_ of Tom. Silver beads which hung on the strands of her thoughts like dew on a spiderweb. But they were blessedly _rare_ , but these places had been touched by magic. These were likely sealed memories or thoughts, but from the surface he couldn't see much, or understand what they did. That wasn't likely to do any more damage than a memory charm would if it was used to seal certain memories.

There was, however, damage. The occasional twisted spire of threads. Trauma that came to her when triggered by similar things to Tom, like Parseltongue. But while there was trauma there was also infatuation. Tom had formed some positive connections to Parseltongue in her mind.

That may be a source of her infatuation for Harry.

There was damage elsewhere, but whether it came from trauma or the remnants of Legilimency was anyone's guess. Indeed, Tom could have left traps in her mind that an incautious Legilimens could spring and hurt her. They could be imitations of trauma formed from Legilimency intentionally.

The Parseltongue connection was easy to identify because why else would she have such a positive association? There was no other reason he could think of. But the rest was hard to identify in both source, origin, _and_ effect, should there even be one.

She was a mess and a landmine but… stable. For now.

Pity tugged at him strongly before he waved it away.

"I'll write home tonight," Percy volunteered.

"You should also tell Professor McGonagall. She's a risk to not only herself but others."

"Ginny wouldn't hurt anyone," Ron interjected.

"Not on purpose," Harry countered, not backing down. "Not on her own."

"You seem to know a lot about this, mate."

Harry turned towards the twin who spoke.

"I've… studied a little about this sort of magic. I'm not an expert. I'm just a third year."

"But… you might know what to expect." It was the same twin.

"I know that every mind is different. Though, its known that the memory charm and the Imperius curse both have their basis' in the mind arts." Harry let that sink in. "But there are things that there are no spells for. He could have changed her behavior over time, changed the way she thinks. Nearly anything. Were personality changes observed after?"

They shared looks full of dread and the girl looked like she was going to sob.

"I'm-I'm not sure." Percy said looking at his sister with concerned eyes.

"Write home," Harry told them. "Get help." He turned to open the door.

The train rattled, and Harry could hear a howl of wind.

 _When had it started to rain?_

The compartment gave a lurch as the Express slowed to a halt. Harry shot out a hand and caught Tracey's luggage with his magic before it could fall on her, even as he caught himself on the door frame. Ginny and one of the twins bumped him as they struggled to stop.

The rain hammered down on the roof of the train car.

"Why are we stopped?" Daphne asked.

"We can't possibly be there yet," Hermione agreed. She stood and looked out the window.

The lamps all went out at once. At first, Harry believed that it was Dumbledore with his deluminator, here for some enigmatic, wizardly reason. Then there was the cold.

"There's people out there," Hermione said, even her quiet tone sounding loud in the sudden stillness. "Who would be out here? It doesn't make any sense."

Harry held out his wand and shone light around him.

 _If only I could conjure lights and attach them to places…_

Something to consider.

At the front of the train a cloaked figure entered, reaching a cold, slimy hand around the corner and looking at them without eyes. He could feel its breath and felt its magical influence against his mind. Harry clasped his mind shut to the manipulations.

"Harry! What are you doing!?" It was Daphne and she sounded panicked.

 _This isn't me._

"It's a Dementor," Percy Weasley whispered.

It hung in the corridor. Harry exhaled slowly and a long trail of vapor exited his mouth. He focused.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," he incanted softly. Nothing burst from his wand. That was natural. It was his first attempt at the spell. For such a spell even his first attempt would be poor.

 _Especially one powered by emotion._

He could have sworn that the monster laughed as it began to glide towards him. Its breath shuddering in a macabre imitation of humor. Harry turned around. There, behind him, he could see fire in the darkness at the end of the hall getting closer.

Harry turned back. It was close now. He was drowning in the assault on his mind. He gasped for breath and when he relaxed his mind to give it a breather he felt the cold enter him. He redoubled his efforts, but it was already inside, creeping inexorably in. The cold was rushing over him. It reached so deep within him. He couldn't fight the despair and the rush of dread that filled him.

 _Where?_

He thought.

 _How is it getting in?_

He felt himself fall and from the end of a tunnel he heard screaming. It was terrible and terrified and pleading. It pulled at him even as he attempted to steel himself.

The creature was on top of him. The screaming pounded into his head. It was lancing right through him, his own defenses falling short.

 _Ironic._

Even as he was dying he was coherent to recognize that.

He had only one chance of survival, but it was as likely to kill him as surely as the Dementor would.

" _Fien-fiendf-fiend-fi_ ," he tried to croak.

Nothing. Though, that was perhaps for the best.

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When Harry woke up he was in a bed. He sat up fast and groaned, collapsing back down. With one hand over his face he reached to the side, blindly feeling for his wand. It snapped into his hand from somewhere.

"You've broken your old record Mr. Potter."

"Ma-" Harry promptly threw up all over himself. The fluid was vanished almost instantly and Harry heard Madam Pomfrey approach, but it sounded like it was from two floors below him. He didn't move again, nor did he try to speak. The bright lights swam and pounded against him even through his closed eyes.

"You had a very close call with your soul and that Dementor." She informed him from somewhere to his right. "I don't know _what_ they were thinking, but of course _you_ would take the blunt of it." She paused, before adding as an afterthought, "You missed the opening feast."

Harry nearly gagged at the thought of food and he shook slightly.

"You're very lucky Professor Lupin knew the Patronus Charm."

He remained silent, still.

"Drink this, Mr. Potter." She placed something in front of him and he instinctively grabbed at it to avoid spilling it. Harry felt his muscle control fail and the liquid spilled all over him.

He felt it vanish.

"Yes, perhaps that was unwise of me. Here."

He felt something against his lips. A straw? He took a sip gagging at the thought of a thick potion but what crossed his lips was warm and sweet and savory. He drank deeper and felt a little better for it. The chocolate swirled over his tongue before he was struck with a racking cough from deep within his chest and nearly spat hot chocolate everywhere.

"Enough of that, for now."

Harry disagreed but kept his mouth shut. Warmth was filling him up and reaching his extremities. He realized that he was shaking and shivering.

He struggled for a moment, then darkness took him again.

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Harry woke up past noon the first day of term from an intense dream. His peers were already in class and he had missed the first day of Arithmancy at 9:00 and Care of Magical Creatures after that.

"Setting Dementors around a school," Pomfrey muttered, pushing back Harry's hair and feeling his forehead before dismissing him from the infirmary. "You won't be the last one who collapses. Yes, you're less clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate -"

 _Delicate?_

Harry was excused from classes for the rest of the day, but it didn't stop him from showing up to Runes and Herbology. In Runes Harry snuck in part of the way through class and sat in the back, far away from Tracey, Daphne, and Hermione. All three gave him worried looks. Especially when he was struck with deep hacking coughing fits which burned his lungs and throat.

He struggled to get down the stairs to the greenhouse after. He met Lisa in Herbology and she was giving him a concerned look beneath a strained smile and it didn't take a Legilimens to know what was going through her head. Though he was struggling to get a read on anyone right now.

His magic wasn't responding with the same dextrous and alacritous edge it usually did. It was like trying to cut bread with a wedged door stop. Sloppy and silly.

[He looks… weak.] She thought.

She seemed surprised, like she had never seen him so low. Harry snapped his Occlumency into place to try and draw in his usual air.

He knew it didn't work.

She informed him about what he missed in Care of Magical Creatures. She described the powerful hippogriffs and some of their magical characteristics. She likely believed that talking about magic was the best way to keep him from sinking into his own thoughts.

It was a good attempt.

It wasn't working.

Harry's movements were clumsy and jerking in his gloves and she barely kept him from making a mess at least twice.

He was still light-headed and he couldn't feel his toes in his shoes. His attempts at Legilimency left a deep ache behind his eyes.

It was when Harry departed from Herbology to find Professor Vector to discover what he had missed about Arithmancy that he ran into trouble in the corridors.

"You fainted, Potter? You actually fainted?"

"Cunning of you, Malfoy, to do this now, if not brave." Damn his voice for shaking.

"I didn't see you in Care of Magical Creatures so the Dementor must have put you in the hospital wing. Did the big scary Dementor frighten you?" Malfoy kept talking despite Harry.

"Leave him alone!" Lisa bit out but she was clutching her books to her chest trying to make herself seem small.

"Oh, it's you," The ponce said with disgust. "I heard what your mother did at the ministry. Disgracing the good name of witches and wizards everywhere," he drawled, finishing with what must have been a patented sneer. "Well, I, for one, am amazed she didn't lose her job."

Lisa turned pink and stammered lightly.

Harry reached across his chest for his wand. His hand shook. The cold from the train hadn't left him. It was deep and in his chest.

 _What's wrong with me?_

Harry hasn't been sick in years. His magic boosted his vitality even as it healed him at the Dursley's and beyond.

He shivered all over his body.

Malfoy was… _faster_. Faster than Harry here and now and faster than he had been during their previous confrontations.

Malfoy's spell struck Harry in the chest and he dropped his book bag as he fell. He rolled backwards and down a staircase. Harry gasped. He had fumbled his wand. He hadn't done that since… _ever_. He had never fumbled his wand. Harry remembered Lockhart dropping his wand last year and how it disgusted him then.

He scowled.

And brought himself to his hands and knees. Harry reached for his wand, pulling it to him, except it _didn't move_ towards him. Not at all. Harry felt his magic slip through his fingers like oil.

It burned him even as he froze and he winced as he felt pain.

He looked down at his hand turning his palm towards him even as he kneeled on the floor.

Harry felt something meet his side, sending him rolling the rest of the way down the staircase.

This time Harry stood up quickly. He swayed, trying to keep his feet, but his vision blurred and he collapsed. He looked over to Crabbe who had kicked his side and saw Malfoy smirking triumphantly.

Harry lanced towards Malfoy's mind but the spear crumbled, the magic slipping away from him. The ache behind his eyes intensified and he nearly passed out.

Harry felt anger, but it was shouting at him from far away, like it was buried under a layer of permafrost.

He mostly felt confused. Like a wounded animal. Even at the Dursleys he had always had magic.

The Slytherins heckled Harry but it was distant, and when he didn't respond in any way shape or form they eventually grew tired and left.

Lisa picked up his wand and paced towards him to hand it over. Harry met her eyes but didn't see anything in them. He didn't even try. He stood up slowly and tremored.

"Thank you," he said. He reached out to grab his wand and his forearm convulsed slightly.

Her eyes nearly glowed with concern.

"Harry…"

Harry saw that he was bleeding lightly from the corner of his mouth from his reflection in her eyes. He wiped it away with his palm and looked at his hand to see the crimson smear.

"...Are you okay?" She finished.

He clutched tightly his wand. It was warm, and the wood was sleek and smooth in his fingers, but that warmth never reached his chest.

"You've never lost like that before," she continued.

She had dropped her books when he had been flung. Harry reached past her and towards her books. He focused harder than he ever had to pull her books to him. They didn't twitch. His wandless magic which had always been with him and within him stirred and fell silent like a bear shifting in a cave but refusing to rise.

The rush of magic nearly burnt his fingers and he had to focus not to cry out.

She was looking slightly hysterical, but was clearly trying to remain calm.

For him?

Meek and mild Lisa who was quick to fear and overthinking was staying strong for him?

 _Delicate_.

Madam Pomfrey had called him. Was she right?

"Something…" Harry began slowly the words leaving his lips slowly. She peered up at him.

He dropped the words. Shaking his head.

"On the train yesterday." He switched tracks. Surprising Lisa. It wasn't like him to say something before he was sure he was going to say it. "I heard screaming. Did you hear it?"

She shook her head tears were welling in her eyes.

Harry looked away at once.

"I heard a woman screaming."

She shook her head harder. "No one was screaming, Harry."

There was silence and Harry's fingers twitched and twisted before him.

"Harry, are you okay?" She was swallowing a lot of fear to ask him. A lot of emotion. It pulled at him even as his own emotions ran out of control for one of the first times in his life.

"No," Harry said, still examining his hand. The words dropped from him like water from an icicle. "Something is terribly wrong with me."

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" _And since you know you cannot see yourself_

 _So well as by reflection, I, your glass,_

 _Will modestly discover to yourself_

 _That of yourself which you yet know not of." -Cassius from Julius Caesar by Shakespeare_

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 _Because I like to discuss stuff I created a Forum for this story. You can ask me questions there._

 **WG**


	8. Boiling

**I'll publicly answer questions on the forum I created for this story.**

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 _"The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven." - John Milton_

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Harry didn't go to dinner, instead seeking out his room. He hadn't gone to see Professor Vector either, he had simply left Lisa in the corridor to come straight here. His attempts to focus seemed futile with something tugging at him constantly, and he found it difficult to center himself in his magic, to clear his mind. He fingered his wand in his hands, trying desperately to enjoy the warmth it usually brought, and looked out over the lake. The dark waters continually froze, only to break up and re-freeze from the Dementors and their drifting presence.

 _What did they do to me?_

It was late, and it was likely that his absence from Ravenclaw tower would be waved off as another trip back to the Hospital Wing. His encounter with Malfoy may well have been common knowledge by now.

He turned to the polished table Daphne had arranged in the middle of the room. She wanted to turn it to quartz, but she struggled to make it permanent.

He looked at the table and spotted his journal, lying open to the last page he had been perusing.

 **The man that became known as Kubera was born with a close kinship to all the precious metals in the earth. As he grew in power and strength, so did this connection, until he was able to turn aside even the sharpest of blades with a thought, and summon sheer spires of silver to lay waste to his jealous enemies.**

 **He saw that the metal he summoned was a part of him, drawing it in and drinking deep of it, until he himself was steel. He learned to manifest this internalized part of himself and bare it into this world as a force.**

He turned the page away from his notes on the Indian God-King, instead leafing numbly to the pages he had devoted to the amortal creatures which currently haunted him. Next to it was everything Harry could find in the restricted section on the monsters.

No solution to his current dilemma immediately presented itself. There were some theoretical notes that referenced the parasitic empathy of the creatures, and discussed whether it was more related to Legilimens' or a powerful Empath's abilities.

Further down, there was a theoretical arithmantic expression for the Dementor's soul consumption. Next to that, were some of the other known uses of Soul magic; _Homenum Revelio_ and the killing curse most notably. The presence revealing charm touched upon the soul in a way that was similar to the way a cheering charm touched the mind, but it was the killing curse that truly _interacted_ with the soul.

It was also his best bet for understanding the nature of the monsters. Harry looked up as a sliver of warm light touched the far wall, and turned to watch the sun rise. It melted the frost which had formed over both the lake and the surrounding country. For a second, he just breathed.

He reached out with a hand and tried to pull his quill to him.

It didn't even twitch.

He was sick. Something was so very, very wrong with him.

He held out his wand and muttered a quick, " _Carpe Retractum_." It worked, and the quill was caught in his hand, but it moved slowly and, for a moment, his hand had struggled to gain purchase on the feather. His shaking had abated to a barely noticeable tremor and, at the very least, he could perform third year charms, if barely. He winced.

The door opened behind him and Neville walked in, coming up short at the sight of his friend's back. Harry turned towards him.

"Harry?"

"Hey Neville. Forget your Magical Creatures book?" Harry pointed to a chair where the book sat, turning back to look at the Dementors.

"Er-yeah I did." Neville paused. "I didn't expect anyone to be here this early." It was eight, breakfast was coming up.

Neville strolled over and grabbed his book.

"Uh… Harry?" The teen turned back. "Lisa, well… she told us what happened with the mirror and we're-"

"Neville," Harry interrupted. "Please. Not now."

"Er-yeah. Okay. Sure. But I don't know if Daphne-"

"Daphne will have to cope."

"She told us you heard screaming!" Neville had clenched his fists. "This isn't good, Harry you need to-!"

"I hear things no one else can all the time, Neville."

"This isn't the same as parseltongue!"

 _Who said I was talking about parseltongue?_

"You couldn't even beat Malfoy! Malfoy, Harry! You need help. Let us help _you_ for once."

"So, what? _You're_ going to help me?" Harry returned. There was more heat in his tone that he would have liked. Merlin, he was even losing grip on his emotions.

"Of course!" Neville looked angry.

"How?" That brought Neville up short. "Madam Pomfrey couldn't, how are you going to?"

"We'll-l-l…"

"Your concern is appreciated." Harry dismissed, before facing back to the monsters outside. "But you can't help me." Harry breathed to try and calm himself. There was nothing to latch onto, just that cold, alien emptiness inside. He couldn't even grasp Neville's emotions to give himself that shred of stability.

Harry sighed as Neville walked out.

He turned suddenly in the empty room and flexed his fingers towards his journal with a snarl! The cover slowly lifted, swaying slightly before finally falling closed with a small snap.

Harry breathed hard from the exertion and looked down at his hand before clenching it into a fist.

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Where Harry's parseltongue abilities had brought the school to a halt last year, this time, his susceptibility to Dementors was largely ignored. However, this incident had a much larger effect on him than anything last year.

His loss to Malfoy on the other hand, that was far more rumour-mill noteworthy, and Malfoy seemed to have gained some prestige in Slytherin House for it.

Harry steam-rolled through his review classes without worry, but lacking his usual flair. Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic and Potions flew by on Tuesday, barely a concern. Nor was the quick Defense pre-class assessment assigned by Professor Remus Lupin, the wizard who saved him on the train, and he quickly caught up on what he missed in Arthimancy and Magical Creatures on Wednesday. It was in Potions on Thursday that he struggled.

His potion was at the top of class, but not his usual standard of excellence and Professor Snape couldn't help but notice.

"Stay after class, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "Yes sir." The Hufflepuffs and Harry's fellow Ravenclaws filed out, leaving Harry alone in front of Snape's desk. He eyed the shrinking potion he had submitted. It wasn't the color of a fresh orange, a touch too red, and it shimmered a little too much.

"You diced your Daisy roots," Snape began. "Why didn't you pulverize them?"

"The instruct-"

"You have never followed my instructions to the letter, Potter, and crushing the roots is a standard modification for you at this point. This," The greasy man held up Harry's submission. "Is mediocre work."

"It's better than the others you'll grade," Harry defended, only to wince at how weak that excuse sounded. "Sir."

"Backtalk, Potter? You have never _settled_ for being better than your peers. Don't think I'm the only one to notice. You would do well not to slip into your father's habits in your classes." Professor Snape drawled.

Harry tried to clear his mind and not get angry. "Yes, sir."

"Go."

Harry picked up his things and left, heading out towards Defense against the Dark Arts, only to pause at the door.

"Sir?" Professor Snape looked up at him, eyebrow cocked. "Do you know how to cast the Patronus charm?"

"I am indeed capable, Mr. Potter." The man was giving him an indecipherable look.

"Would you be willing to teach me?"

Professor Snape scoffed. "I have better things to do with my time than to attempt to teach a third year one of the most advanced charms ever devised. I have little interest in an exercise in futility."

Harry nodded and departed.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin greeted. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson, so you will need only your wands."

The man led the class down a hallway to the Teacher's lounge.

"Now then," said the Professor, beckoning the class toward the end of the room. There was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Lupin calmly after a few people jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."

Harry took a step back, having read about boggarts. They had been turned over in his thoughts after the discussion with the Headmaster, in front of the Mirror of Erised two years ago. He had constructed a potential list of forms it might take but…

He glanced around. This was not how he wanted to find out what he was most afraid of.

"Now, we have an advantage, can anyone tell me what it is?"

Su Li raided a hand and the Professor pointed at her nodding. "It won't know what form to take, because there are so many of us."

"Precisely! Excellent. When you encounter a boggart, it is a fairly good idea to have company. It becomes confused. The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me please... 'riddikulus!'"

"Riddikulus!" chorused the class.

What would Harry's be? Voldemort returned to power? Returning to Privet Drive? Never being able to use magic? It would be difficult for the Boggart to become something abstract, it would also be difficult to make something abstract appropriately funny. It could easily become something he had read about, something which wouldn't normally be the fear of a thirteen-year-old because it wasn't _known_ to most thirteen-year-olds.

Or did that not matter? Did it become what you _thought_ was your worst fear, or was it your worst fear that you knew of, or did it become something you would fear most if you learned about it?

Time was running out. What terrified him?

 _The Dementors…_

It was true; they... they certainly kept him up at night more than Voldemort ever had. They made him weak. They could take everything from him and not a single one of his talents or resources could stop them.

Su Li was up first, gulping audibly.

Something stumbled out, possessing long, spindly limbs and no eyes. Its face was longer and taller than a person's should be, and it snapped its head in Su's direction; gnashing its teeth as it did so. Its skin was stretched taut over its skull and its cheeks were fleshless, making the motion all the more gruesome.

"Riddikulus!" Su shouted, wand snapping un the prescribed motion.

The monster's too-long legs were abruptly noodles, and it swayed, unable to keep its balance.

"Ernie!" Professor Lupin cried.

The creature refocused on the new victim, shifting as the Hufflepuff approached. It turned into what looked like a cloak, at least until it stood up, slithering towards Ernie. It was clearly a Lethifold, or perhaps what most assumed a Lethifold to resemble. Ernie quickly turned it into a flying carpet that promptly whizzed around the room, causing more than a few smiles from the waiting teens.

When Hannah Abbott came close it became a Runespoor, which hissed and reared back before becoming a spring.

It bounced about until the Professor stepped forward and it floated as a silver ball which Lupin blew back into the wardrobe.

Harry lingered as everyone else walked away. Even Lisa, who was dragged away by her friends. Harry walked closer to the Professor while he was working with the wardrobe.

"Sir?"

"Huh- Oh? Yes, Harry?"

"I was hoping I could see." Professor Lupin hesitated, and Harry wondered if he understood Harry's meaning. The Professor pulled through, though.

"Do you not already know? I assumed that it would take the form of Lord Voldemort."

Harry jumped. Professor Lupin was the only teacher, no, the only person he had ever heard refer to Voldemort by that name aloud, apart from Dumbledore.

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure, Sir."

The Professor paused. "Alright, I suppose it couldn't hurt, as long as I'm here. Are you ready?"

 _No. Not at all._

He nodded anyway.

"Three, two, one." The man opened the door.

Out swung a gaping maw of black and a shuddering breath. It lanced straight through his Occlumency shields much faster than the real one.

Harry cried out even as he fell. Pain pounding behind his eyes.

 _Of course._

He had clarity enough to think.

 _It uses Legilimency to discover our fears. Though in this case…_

A powerful legilimency attack was his fear, or a part of it. He clasped his hands over his ears as the screaming began.

 _Its using Legilimency to imitate the Dementors, and because it knows it will terrify me._

It was working, and the cold was creeping its way inside him much faster than before.

The Professor shut the creature back in quickly, looking down at Harry with an expression of concern.

Harry brought himself back to his feet slowly. He was shaking, but slowly bringing himself back under control. He felt pain behind his eyes from the attack, and he could still hear the screaming in his head. It was never in his ears.

It had always been inside him.

"Are you alright Harry?"

He steeled himself.

"I'm alright, Sir."

"Hmm," the man considered, ragged robes sweeping back and forth. "Should you change your mind, you'll find my office door always open to you."

Harry took that as a dismissal and left the lounge.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall eyed Harry in their afternoon classes, but could find no cause for complaint. His transfigurations and charms were well-practiced by now. He had already completed most of the work for this year in both those subject and it showed, even if he hadn't slept or eaten since Monday.

Harry adjourned to his room without going to dinner, but not before raiding the library for material on Boggarts.

His journal was open again.

 **A boggart is an amortal shape-shifting non-being that takes on the form of the viewer's worst fear.**

 **Boggarts seem to be generated and sustained by human emotions; most notably, fear.**

Quoted straight from a textbook, but beneath that Harry noted the use of Legilimency.

 **Dementors are amortal, non-beings. They are related to lethifolds in both appearance and nature.**

 **Dementors also seem to be sustained by human emotions, most notably happiness, leaving their victims with dread, fear, and misery.**

Harry had noted beneath this summarized description their use of legilimency, or perhaps some twisted form of empathy, along with the meteoromancy and thermokinesis Dementors displayed.

Of course, the similarities between the two creatures seemed obvious now when drawn so close together.

The similarities to himself were there too.

The door opened again. It was Hermione. Harry glanced up from his book and touched her mind, finding it weak and frail. But he could see himself through her perspective, and didn't look much better. His eyes were sinking into his head and lost some of their brightness. Harry looked away and back to his journal. Hermione began walking over, eyeing his book, but he shut it before she could get close enough to read anything.

"Hello Hermione."

"I didn't see you at dinner today, Harry."

"I was here."

"I didn't see you at lunch or breakfast either." She stepped closer, worrying her hair as she did. "Harry…" She reached out to touch him, but dropped her hand at the last second. "Harry, Neville and Lisa… both mentioned that they talked to you."

Harry nodded. "You do like to gossip." It was a weak attempt at humor, and Harry's smile cracked. She ignored it.

"Harry we're worried about you."

"I did notice," Harry muttered.

"You haven't been the same since the train," she pushed on. "Lisa said you heard screaming and you were convulsing. It was horrible, Harry, you need help."

He nodded. He could agree, he did need help, but he doubted she, or any of his friends, could help him.

"Maybe."

"At the least go and see Madam Pomfrey."

He wanted to laugh. The sickness was in his mind. Madam Pomfrey was good, amazing even, but she didn't know anything about the mind arts.

"You don't understand, Hermione."

She shook her head getting frustrated. "You aren't listening! The Dementor did something to you Harry, you're sick."

 _I'm certainly not well._

"Go to the Hospital Wing Harry, you can't keep this up; it just isn't healthy. The tremors you have, your… lapses. They're all symptoms of sleep deprivation."

She memorized the symptoms in the hopes that would convince him. As if he didn't already know.

"I was shaking like this Monday, too," he countered.

"All the more reason to go see Madam Pomfrey!"

She was waiting for him to agree or say something. He continued to wait until she became uncomfortable.

"You don't understand, Hermione." She opened her mouth. "You don't think I haven't tried to sleep and eat? You think I want this?"

"You could get-"

"There's nothing Madam Pomfrey can give me that would be anything more than a stop-gap, if that." There was heat in his voice again.

She flinched as though she had been slapped.

"You need to listen to me Harry!"

"I did listen!" He snapped. "You are _wrong,_ Hermione. You thought things through and memorized some facts, but that doesn't make you right and it doesn't mean you understand."

She looked hurt, but Harry didn't regret what he said. She was wrong and that was what had happened. The truth mattered. She humphed visibly and picked up her bags.

"Fine! Just hurt yourself then, if you're not going to listen to reason. I can only do so much!"

Harry let her storm out. She would have to learn to get over things like this and not take it so personally. It may be selfish, but right now he didn't need that. He needed…

He looked at his journal.

He didn't know what he needed, but it wasn't Hermione's trite reasoning.

He focused, replaying the instructions in his mind as his wand came up, and cast.

" _Expecto Patronum._ "

Nothing, again. He thought for a moment. He had been using the happiest memory he had available, the memory he had experienced years ago of a woman's wedding day. It was happy and strong, so why wasn't it working?

He should at least be getting mist, so he tried again, forcing more power down the connection.

" _Expecto Patronum._ "

There was a bang which cracked Daphne's table, but likely wouldn't have protected him from the Dementors.

Harry refocused and absently fixed the crack. He knelt at the table and began inscribing runes into the edge, working his way around and carving them in blazing green with his wand. When he finished he concentrated, and the table turned solid and heavy. It was quartz, polished and with greys and whites swirled together.

The glowing green fire diminished, but the runes stayed carved into the table and now possessed their own faint light.

He sighed. It felt… good; to do something. He felt like he was waiting, but for what? Why? Maybe working on these projects would do him more than a little good.

 _One down._

Harry opened his book to the ideas he had for spells but hadn't made.

 _A lot to go._

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry didn't sleep Thursday night either, he was up working, accomplishing things. He didn't give himself time to rest, nor a moment to think about anything other than his next project.

It was seven in the morning when his stomach growled and he was forced to stop. He _washungry_. It had been a few days since he last ate. He glanced around.

The room looked polished and cleaned and more than a little larger. Over there was the table he had turned to quartz and, glittering in the air above it, were soft white lights based off the lumos charm. There was a bathroom to the right, where Harry planned to set up working magical plumbing along with what may, at some point, become a library; with clean shelves and tall, crystal windows. Near the center was a dias, where Harry intended on constructing and then enchanting a pensieve. On the other side of the table, was the beginnings of a dueling chamber. He used the same lights, but stuck them to walls, furnishings and mantles. Across from the dueling chamber was what could only be a lounge, with couches and what would be a fire place.

The room practically glowed with magic and, seeing it all, Harry sighed.

He reached out, and his journal twitched across the table. The feeling was like dipping his fingers in warm water after coming in from the snow, but…

He breathed deep. This was his; in this room he had _control_.

He was also exhausted beyond measure. The magic he had worked in the room had taken a lot from him and he was running on less than fumes. So, for the first time in days, he departed for the Great Hall.

The Dementors still hounded his thoughts, and his inability to defend himself nipped at his heels while he walked, but neither could touch him right now.

He steeped himself in his Occlumency.

 _That's better._

He found the Great Hall empty aside from a few early risers, and he ate quickly. It was as delicious as ever, but his hunger made it downright divine. His eyes crossed paths with Percy Weasley, busy day-dreaming about Penelope Clearwater. His magic didn't turn to ash in his hands and mouth, didn't bite back and drive agony behind his eyes. It was just sore. Like a muscle, strained and ripped and torn, but…

It was flexing again.

He smiled lightly.

Arithmancy flew by in a blur, as did Care of Magical Creatures. However, on the march back to the school from Hagrid's 'classroom', Harry found what he was looking for.

"Finally crawled out of that hole, Potter? You avoiding the Great Hall improved the place by a wide margin." Malfoy was as obnoxious as ever.

Harry swayed slightly on his feet. He was feeling the exhaustion of days without sleep. He reached deep within himself, and instantly knew it wouldn't be enough to beat Malfoy.

"Look at you! You can hardly stand." Malfoy laughed as though this was the pinnacle of comedy. His minions gave two low, stupid chuckles.

 _Laugh now, Malfoy. Laugh now._

Harry walked past the teen into the castle, seething in his rage and impotence at his situation. Beneath it though, was a cord of steel will, twisting patiently.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry slept for nearly six hours on Saturday. It was… more than a little for him. He dreamed he was burning to death. He had felt it, and then when he woke up he was cold again. The Dementors were still inside him. He wasn't well rested, but… he was better. He was healing.

He was in the room just after breakfast and found Daphne running her fingers across the table, admiring the lights.

"Hey, Harry."

"Daphne," he greeted, glancing around. "Where's Tracey?"

"Just me today. After you turned away Neville, most of us figured it best to leave you be, except…"

"Except Hermione," Harry finished.

"And that didn't exactly work either."

Harry nodded, taking a seat and pulling out his homework. He could wrap all this up in the next two hours and have the weekend free.

He waited as the silence grew, but was confident that it was making her more uncomfortable than it was him.

"So… are you okay?"

He shook his head. "I'm alright."

"What happened on the train? The only other person who was affected so badly was that Ginny-girl."

He thought that through. "It makes sense that they would affect her as well," Harry mused after a pause. "In fact, it confirms something for me."

"What happened, Harry?" She didn't take the bait.

He sighed. "I'd… rather not talk about it, Daphne."

She nodded slowly. "Neville said you didn't want to, but…"

 _But maybe I'd talk about it with you. Is that what you were thinking?_

Harry just nodded.

"Is…" She paused to give him a look, as though considering where she wanted to go with this. "Are you doing this to yourself for a good reason, at least?"

"I'm not doing this to myself, Daphne."

"You are keeping us out though." She stepped closer, before looking down at her hands; they were shuffling her fingers together. "Is it important?"

He considered it. Looking at her he wanted to laugh, but knew it would come out hysterical.

"I'm just sick. I'll get better, I just need…"

"Time?" She finished for him. He recalled their conversation in the library about how time couldn't heal all wounds. He knew she was thinking about it too.

He sighed, and sat down. "I'm already getting stronger again."

"Michael mentioned you finally came back to the Ravenclaw Dormitory last night, but Lisa didn't see you. You were also in the Great Hall yesterday." She glanced down. "But not today." She sat next to him. "Recovering, but not recovered?"

He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.

"Do you think we could practice Occlumency again?" She shifted tracks, away from whatever else she was going to ask.

"You weren't ready last time."

"I think I'm ready now," she tried.

"You're not."

"I felt the Dementor in my mind on the train; that has to count!"

He relaxed into the, well, not _usual_ conversation, but at the least familiar one. That was comforting and, perhaps more importantly, distracting.

He shook his head, tired of fighting his friends. "Did you feel Professor Lupin's boggart?"

"...the boggart?"

"How do you think it knows your fears? How do you think it feeds off them?" He asked rhetorically. "You didn't feel it, did you?"

"Well… what if I-"

"Daphne, you need to be patient with this. You don't want to end up like Ginny."

 _Though it may already be too late. You might belong to me the way she belonged to Riddle._

Harry shook the sinister thought away. He… cared about Daphne. Dumbledore would say something about love; that he loved his friends, and that's what separated him from Voldemort but…

He frowned.

 _I care about her. I don't know if Voldemort cared about any of his… friends, followers, whatever; but perhaps Dumbledore is right._

"Fine," she grumbled. She settled into her work and didn't bother him again. Eventually though, she noticed he was still looking at her. "What? I'm not going to leave. This is my room too, even if you changed most of it."

"I can undo the enchantments and let you do them, if you don't like them."

"Don't patronize me." She was glowering at him. "We were supposed to do it together."

He sighed. "Sorry Daphne." He glanced up. "I didn't do the secret passage yet."

"Yet?" She asked raising her eyebrows.

"I didn't attempt it," he explained. "I assumed you'd want to be there for it."

"But not for these other expansions?"

"You never mentioned wanting to do anything like this."

She pointed at the table.

"Except that," he acknowledged with a somewhat sheepish shrug.

She humphed at him, giving a slight victorious smile. There was something confident in it, something he had, despite his self-imposed isolation, missed.

There was silence for a long time - hours, even, while Harry did his work and Daphne sat in companionable silence. He wasn't sure if it was awkward, but if it was, then he didn't feel it.

"Have you tried out that dueling chamber yet?" She asked, after wrapping up her arithmancy homework.

He shook his head, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Do you want to try it?" She continued. "I know that you'll bea-"

"It wouldn't be a fair contest," he wheezed, breathing hard.

She gave a scathing look. "You can't be _that_ much better than me."

"Daphne, I can hardly cast a spell. You would demolish me."

She gave him an appraising look that morphed into condescension as she pointedly looked around at the new enchantments in the room.

"It took me days to regain enough strength to do that."

She looked... alarmed?

"Harry, are you not recovering your magic? Are you really that sick?" A sly grin spread across her face. "Is that the reason you didn't want to work on my Occlumency? Is it because you _can't_?"

He gave her a half-hearted glare, it was answer enough. She laughed softly.

"Personally, I think that's all the more reason to duel. Think about it, I'd finally beat you."

He gave a weak chuckle.

"Don't worry Harry, I'll keep you safe from those big bad Slytherins," she drawled in a condescending ton, not even trying to hide her smirk. "Malfoy won't be able to touch a hair on your pretty little head." She reached out to pat his hair and he winced.

"Didn't I have to duel against Malfoy for you in our first year?" He asked, tapping his lips as though deep in thought.

"Prat." She hit him in the chest like she always did. The blow was light, but his condition made him cough and retch slightly.

He breathed deeply to recover and when he met her eyes there was… guilt, amongst other things. He wasn't sure.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to hurt you." She worried her lip.

"It wasn't you, it was just…"

"Your condition?" She finished.

He nodded. "Let's call it that."

She didn't say anything for a while, just looked at him with big blue eyes. "Do… do you want to talk about what happened? You were there for me when I needed to talk about my father." Her face was heavy with emotion.

"You don't owe me anything."

"I'm not so sure."

Harry eyed her carefully as she spoke. Her tone was hard to read.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry had recovered enough of his strength to practice Quidditch with his team by Sunday. They had some try-outs to replace one of their beaters, and the rest of the practice was a lecture from the new captain. Harry was starting to believe it was tradition for the first few practices to be purely strategic and on the ground. That was probably fortunate for Harry, he didn't need his team to see how far he actually was from his usual skill.

Harry wanted to be in the sky, but he saw the wisdom in it, and he'd take the good with the bad.

He spent a good portion of the practice looking out over the grounds and watching the Dementors. He could feel them at the edge of his thoughts, constantly reaching out. Trying to be close enough to feed, but not attract attention from the ministry. Pushing the rules they had been assigned, due to the temptation of defenseless food.

 _Pricks._

He thought very aggressively in their direction, more for himself than out of any belief that they would actually feel insulted.

He met with Flitwick to discuss what was expected of him of his extracurricular studies.

As expected, he was expected to submit a project that displayed sufficient understanding in Magical Theory and Ancient Studies each. He could begin Advanced Arithmancy after his Arithmancy OWL. He was to submit his project at the end of the year, but he was supposed to meet with Flitwick once a month to make sure he was on the right track.

His friends slowly and timidly began approaching him again. Neville and Hermione were hesitant, but it wasn't as though any of them had any ill-will, so they all went back to studying in the room together. It was certainly large enough now.

His magic was recovering, slowly. Day to day he was growing strong again, and he found himself able to slip into the minds of others once more. It was frail, compared to before, but it was returning, and his confidence was growing with it.

Lisa and Hermione were both in the lounge of what was quickly becoming 'Harry's Study' much to Daphne's chagrin.

"It's as much mine as it is his!"

She had been left fuming, with Tracey giggled off to her side.

Harry sat down in a chair next to them and eyed the unfinished fireplace.

 _I need to do something about that._

"Harry?" Hermione asked after a bit of silence.

He looked up.

"I'm… sorry I tried to push you so hard. I should have given you more space."

He shrugged and was tempted to leave it at that. "No harm done, " he said. "I was sick."

"You still are," Lisa pointed out.

It was true. He still shook and trembled, and he wasn't sleeping much. Maybe three days out of the week, and not for long when he did. Augeomancy meant that his brain was, well, augmented, by his magic. He didn't need as much rest as the average student, but he still had to sleep at _some_ point. There was also the cold. In fact, he was still as cold as he had been the day after the attack.

"But I'm _less_ sick," he responded churlishly.

Lisa just shook her head and sighed. "I heard you were shooting for eighteen Newts," she mentioned offhandedly to change the topic.

"Eighteen?" Hermione asked, closing the book she was reading. "Are you sure you'll be able to keep up with that sort of workload?"

Neville strolled in and plopped down.

"He is pretty far ahead in all the other classes." Neville had his back. "He's been practicing third-year material since the beginning of last year."

 _Good man, that Neville._

Harry grinned, able to watch as the competitiveness in Hermione grew even as her concern for him abated. So long as he didn't give her a reason to get _too_ competitive, he could leave this conversation without too much of a fight. "He already has his Muggle Studies Newt," Neville finished.

 _Traitor._

"Aren't you shooting for twelve, Hermione?" Harry deflected quickly, giving both Lisa and Neville questioning looks. He then grinned slyly. "How do you have time for that?"

She almost jumped in her chair, her hand twitched towards her neck. It was enough, and Harry grinned. It wasn't that she had done _poorly_ at hiding her secret, but… Harry could read minds, even if his abilities had been reduced to pale shadow of their former self.

Plus, she had several classes a week that conflicted on her schedule, and he knew she had never missed Divination even though he saw her in Runes every day.

"I manage," she managed diplomatically. "Have you figured out that Herbology project you were thinking about doing?" Now _she_ was trying to change the subject.

He shook his head. "I've been working on other stuff."

"Dementors," they all said simultaneously.

Tracey and Daphne strolled in at that moment. "Are you talking about Harry's latest obsession?" Tracey asked. "Also, this is a Hogsmeade weekend, and we're all going to the Three Broomsticks." She was firm and her resolve absolute. "You did get your permission slip signed, right Harry?"

"I'll send a message to Dumbledore tomorrow," Harry said quickly. Seeing her glare, he added, "Or today."

She nodded, satisfied.

"Although there is Pettigrew to consider…" Neville cautioned, giving Harry a pointed look.

"Plus, he'll have to walk past the Dementors," Hermione added over her book.

"You did want to test yourself against them, didn't you Harry?" Daphne asked.

He considered that. "Well-"

"Wait, you actually _want_ to go near them again? You're only just now getting better!" Lisa chided.

"He said he was thinking about it," Daphne said. "He wasn't sure. Probably wants to get a little stronger, right?"

"Maybe he shouldn't go at all…" Neville put in, trailing off at Tracey's icy look. "What?" Neville stammered. "W-w-we have to think it through."

"We?" Harry asked.

"Yes, we," Daphne stated resolutely. "Keep up."

"It sounds like it's too dangerous," Hermione said. "The Dementors..." She trailed off before finding purchase. "Pettigrew, he was sighted near here recently. It sounds like too much of a risk."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Harry turned to Neville specifically, hoping to find some solidarity with the only other source of testosterone in the room.

"Probably not," Neville informed him honestly.

"Look, I've been waiting to go to Hogsmeade with my Hogwarts friends since I was a little girl listening to my parents' stories. Think of the memories! Plus, there are Ministry officials there who can cast the Patronus charm. Harry will be plenty safe, don't you think? I mean, the Ministry _does_ command the Dementors."

"He was already attacked by them once," Lisa countered. "So they aren't exactly controlled, are they?"

"The Dementors will do whatever they think they can get away with." Neville murmured quietly, looking disturbed. "My gran says they're fickle, and their loyalty is bought with victims to feed on."

"I'm recovering," Harry stated with finality as he stood up. He swayed on his feet and Neville had to grab his arm to keep him from falling over. He ignored the pointed looks he received. "This is all just hypothetical anyway. Dumbledore might decide not to let me go." He pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled a note requesting the Dumbledore sign his permission slip. He went to go find Hedwig and send it to Dumbledore along with the permission slip.

"Oi, we didn't finish talking about it!" Daphne called as he walked out.

"We don't even know if there's a point to discuss." He waved her off as he walked out.

She huffed. "He drives me crazy sometimes."

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry sent his note via Hedwig from the Owlery, although in the future he would have to find another way to do so. The small tower that held the Castle's parliament of messengers was a little too close to the circling ring of shadowy death for his liking. He put it out of mind and considered his projects for the extracurricular classes as he returned to the enchanted room. The spells he had designed would all help him pass Magical Theory, he knew, but that didn't mean he wanted to submit something that wasn't new and designed specifically for the task in question.

As for Ancient Studies; an essay was the simplest solution, but Professor Snape had been right when he surmised Harry never settled for just being above his peers. He always pushed to be _peerless_. He could recycle his knowledge on the Indian Gods, or write something about the origins of Celtic runes and why they were standard in modern magical society, perhaps? A trip to the library would serve him well in any case, and he hadn't done _anything_ for his Herbology project so far. He was slacking.

He spied the Dementors out a window as he made his way down from the Owlery.

 _Though perhaps it's not entirely my fault._

He went to the library that night. He felt he knew enough about Runes and Arithmancy to return to the books on blood magic he had abandoned. So, it was with copies of _The Fifth Element of Witchcraft_ and _Most Puissant Medium_ under his arm that he passed the Teacher's lounge under his invisibility cloak, only to pause.

 _It is my fault I'm not stronger, though._

He swallowed his fear and stepped inside. It was empty, and Harry instantly spotted Lupin's wardrobe. It rocked slightly in his direction when he entered, making him stiffen.

For the briefest of moments, Harry wished he was back in the cupboard on Privet Drive. Then he remembered the Dementor attacking him, and how he had felt that same childish desire for the first time since first-year. He would never forgive himself for that.

It made him pause. It filled him with so much with rage that he snarled, and the room shook slightly. The Boggart wasn't even out and it still scared him! He breathed to calm himself.

He wand was already in his hand.

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Harry dreamed that he was burning again that night. It had taken his strictest Occlumency to prevent him from crying out and waking his fellow Ravenclaws. He breathed deeply and rapidly, trying to put himself back in some semblance of order.

He had been getting better for a week or so, but it felt like he had reached a plateau. He was strong physically, if not as strong as he had been, and his magic was _there,_ even if it wasn't wandless and as calcitrant as it had been before. It was his mind magic that was weak still. He could only receive a few frames of memories or thoughts before he lost focus.

He got up. It was Friday, so he just had to make it through his Friday schedule. He shuffled down to the Great Hall early to dodge the breakfast crowds. Of course, most Ravenclaws were the sort who went to bed _and_ rose early, so he found himself unable to dodge them entirely.

Harry sat next to Michael at their table and helped himself to bacon and oatmeal. It was excellent as always for a Hogwarts meal, but the food felt like sandpaper in his mouth.

Michael waved a copy of the Prophet next to his head to get Harry's attention. When Harry looked up at him, the boy just pointed him to the newspaper.

"Did you hear already? Pettigrew' been sighted." Michael summarized the article between bites of sausage. "It was a muggle woman who saw him, so she phoned nine-nine-nine, but he was long gone by the time the Ministry got there."

Harry looked over the paper, reading for himself. "Do you think that they would have caught him if the lady could have contacted the Ministry directly?" Harry paused to consider. "Do you think the world would be better if we had never separated muggles from wizards?" Harry looked up at Michael to see… something frightened in him.

[...Grindelwald…]

Harry caught the name from Michael's thoughts, feeling a little backlash from the intrusion, but swiftly dismissing it.

"Just hypothetically, you know," Harry continued quickly before Michael got the wrong idea. "Say, we had _never_ separated, rather than attempting to undo the division now." His words seem to calm the other boy.

"An academic question?" Michael seemed to consider it. "Well do you remember that essay we had to write for History of Magic this summer? About whether the witch burnings were pointless?"

Harry nodded and let Michael continue.

"Coexistence is an interesting idea. They help us, we help them; that's a nice thought, ya' know?" Harry nodded again. "And the muggles could help us catch criminals, and I guess their Ministry could have helped against You-Know-Who… We might even have less bigotry in our world against muggle-borns and half-bloods if our two worlds were merged and we lived beside muggles." Michael was getting into it now. "Of course, that's a big hypothetical… and they did sort of burn our children." His smile turned uneasy.

"That kind of thing can be hard to get past, and resentments like that tend to linger." It was Anthony Goldstein. He was a muggle born, Harry remembered. "And I'm willing to bet that wizards and witches did some pretty horrible things to muggles, too. Sorry for cutting, I just wanted to share that."

Harry nodded and held up his fingers. "Coexistence," he listed with his thumb. "Grindelwald imagined domination." He held up his index finger.

He seemed to be gathering attention from his Ravenclaw peers. "Well yeah, but isn't that, you know, horrible?" Mandy Brocklehurst gave her two knuts.

"...Maybe." Su Li seemed to want to cut in. "Wizards and witches give potions and magic and such," She postulated. "In return, they work for us." Seeing the looks she was getting, she leaned back and held up her hands. "It's not that different from economics," she explained quickly. "A trade, of sorts."

"Mutualism," Terry Boot said, pointing at Su with his fork. "A symbiotic relationship. Isn't that more a part of coexistence?"

"That's assuming we'd be dominant," Lisa said. "Muggle weapons are more than a little sophisticated."

"More dangerous than magic?" Mandy asked sceptically.

"Absolutely," Anthony stated adamantly, as the only muggle-born at the table, his words carried weight. "Guns, missiles, rockets. Muggles fighting each other could wipe us out by _accident_. Many magical locations in London had to be warded against muggle artillery fire during Grindelwald's war." He took a bite of eggs. "And that was fifty years ago."

Harry held out his middle finger. "Genocide then, by either party." They gave him some wary looks. "It _could_ happen, so it's worth adding. We wouldn't have to hide, and they wouldn't have to deal with our criminals." Harry gestured at the Daily Prophet.

"You support Grindelwald's ideals? Then?" Terry Boot asked. "You kinda seem to lean that way."

"I don't know enough about the subject to say what his ideals were," Harry said, before amending it to, " _are_ ," with a shake of his head. Grindelwald was still alive, after all. "Let alone whether I support them."

 _Would I have grown up in a regular family, if Grindelwald had won?_

It was something to consider.

"So… you're saying you're not necessarily opposed to killing muggles?" Su Li asked.

"He didn't say that at all," Michael defended. "He's just looking at it academically."

"Academics form our thoughts," Mandy pointed out.

"I don't want to kill muggles," Harry affirmed resolutely. "I think it would be nice if we could coexist."

 _I don't know if I believe either of those two things._

"It is a nice thought." Lisa supported him. "It's worth striving for."

The Great Hall was getting crowded, so Harry stood up and left the Great Hall. Maybe _after_ he conquered the Dementors and was back to full strength, he would look into Grindelwald.

He went to the study and examined the fireplace for half an hour before leaving for Care of Magical Creatures.

Hermione found him on the walk down to the 'classroom' in the grounds. She seemed agitated.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" He asked.

"Divination is useless!" She seemed glad someone had opened her can of worms, clearly eager to vent. "Professor Trelawney makes these vague predictions and then when they come 'true' Lavender and Padme fall all over her." Hermione huffed. "It's a useless subject."

Harry thought about Luna Lovegood.

"Divination _is_ valid, but perhaps not as Professor Trelawney teaches it. Have you tried looking into self-study?" Harry asked.

"How can you know divination isn't tripe?" Hermione asked him haughtily.

"Remember how I found the Chamber last year? Hermione, people have been making prophecies and foretelling the future forever. There are methods that can allow even those who aren't naturally gifted to see."

"Have _you_ ever see the future?" Hermione asked him, more curious now.

 _Through Luna I have._

"Look up Asimina or Nostradamus, Hermione."

Books and citable evidence, she could understand. "It's just that in Divination to-"

"You had Divination today? I thought the nine o'clock hour was the first class of the day." Harry turned towards her. "Let me see it."

"Let you see what?" Hermione backed away from him as she clutched her books close to her. "I don't know what you're talking about!" She turned to stalk away and march the rest of the way down to the class.

Harry caught her arm and opened his mouth when he felt a chill and shuddered. He nearly fell to his knees. Hermione had made to push past him, but froze when she saw him turn pale and looked up. The dementors were looming, perhaps closer than normal.

Harry focused his barriers. Resisting their call and blocking out the distant echo of screams.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively. Lisa was approaching the both of them, and Hermione and Lisa made eye contact as Harry steadied himself. Harry felt the desire to crawl into his cupboard and the thought drove him to such anger that he hardly felt the cold, even if on some level he knew it was still there.

"Do you need to go back to the Ca-" Lisa began, giving him a worried look.

"No. I'm fine," he intoned blandly. It quickly turned to a deep cough as he finished his sentence and he felt his fingers tremble.

"Look at Potter!" Malfoy was laughing, coming up behind Harry with his cronies in tow. "You don't look so good. Do you need to hide for another week? Did the big bad Dementors hurt you again?"

"Back off," Hermione said, stepping between Harry and Malfoy even as Harry caught his breath and reached deep within himself. It wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.

Harry held out his left hand and splayed it, knowing this would completely exhaust him for the rest of the day. He was pouring magic all over and he didn't have much to spare, but he had enough. Enough for this.

"Or what?" Malfoy asked laughing. "Is the filthy moodblo-agack!"

Malfoy choked.

And he couldn't find air even as he was pulled off the ground.

Harry grinned, his coughing fit turning into a laugh.

"You should have been content with what you had, Malfoy."

The other students gathered in a ring around them.

Harry laughed lightly. It was ruined when he swayed on his feet, but it was worth it.

"Malfoy, your best is my worst," he rasped.

Malfoy scratched at his neck, but it brought no relief. Crabbe and Goyle stepped back warily.

Harry held him still, and watched as Malfoy's eyes dilated and his skin grew pale, well, paler. Harry drank the boys fear and hate in, holding him in place.

Then he released him, watching the boy fall to the ground and smirking as he nearly wretched. He exhaled, and watched as his breath curled in the frigid air. He looked out and saw the Dementors hanging in the sky like twisted puppets.

 _Soon._

He reminded himself.

"I hope Pettigrew kills you," Malfoy choked out.

Harry laughed and turned away, walking down to Care of Magical Creatures class with a lighter step than he had felt all week.

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 **Harry,**

 **As your guardian I'm afraid I can't allow you to go to Hogsmeade, at least for now. You deserve to know the reasons for this, and they are twofold. First, is the threat that Peter Pettigrew may or may not pose to your well-being.**

 **The second, and most prominent, is the ill-effect that the jailors of Azkaban seem to have on your health. When you have mastered the Patronus Charm, I would be happy sign this slip.**

 **While we are on the subject, your teachers have all mentioned your exceptional work has merely been superior as of late, and your absence from Ravenclaw tower has been noted. Should you decide you need to discuss this with me, it should be noted that I quite enjoy Honeydukes' marvellous Acid Pops.**

 **P.S. I would consider studying French, were I in your shoes.**

 **-APWBD**

 _He said when I master the Patronus, not if._

The Headmaster's confidence meant a lot to Harry.

Harry looked up from the note at the feast that evening and dug in. He didn't know what Dumbledore had meant by the last statement, but he figured it would become plain.

The feast continued to completion before Dumbledore waved his hands and the food vanished from the Hall.

"Now that we have all been fed and watered, I have a bit of an announcement to make." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling, he had the attention of every student.

"I have the pleasure of announcing the Tri-Wizard Tournament will be taking place next year. Our hosts will be the French Ministry of Magic at Beauxbatons Acadamie pour la Magique." Excited murmuring broke out.

"Now," Dumbledore began again, silencing all conversation. "Unfortunately, only those over the age of seventeen will be allowed to compete, however." Dumbledore's voice rose over the protest. "Only the top students in each class will be invited to visit Beauxbatons as a part of the Hogwarts delegation."

 _Ah, French it is then._

"This is a once in a lifetime educational opportunity, and a wonderful means to foster and build international relationships," the Headmaster continued. "This invitation is a privilege, and should a student prove that they will be unable to represent Hogwarts with dignity and respect, they will be left behind."

Harry caught Dumbledore's eye. He saw nothing, and didn't bother trying further.

"Now, off to bed, tut-tut," the greatest wizard in the world finished in his own, whimsical way.

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" _And while the law has many penalties for the atrocities we inflict on others, there are no punishments for the terrors that we inflict on ourselves." - Burnie Burns_

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Next chapter, the Hanged Man.

 **WG**


	9. The Hanged Man

**Beta: Digitize27**

 **A lot of payoff in this chapter. Been planning this one for months.**

 **I've got enough reviews about the teachers just ignoring Harry's condition that I just wanted to make a note here.**

" **Why are the teachers dumping logic and ignoring Harry?"**

 **Because they're not. Dumbledore sent his note, the Teachers watched with concerned eyes and even Snape in his odd way offered his assistance. Just because I didn't explicitly tell you that the teachers were worried and having conversations doesn't mean they aren't and if Harry hadn't begun to show improvement within just a few days, then you better believe Dumbledore would have taken action.**

 **So, while Dumbledore didn't jump into the water to save Harry while he drowned, he did send a boat and alerted the coast guard. But physically there's nothing wrong with Harry and even if they stepped in there'd be nothing they could do to help until Harry himself wants to be helped.**

 **If you strongly believe that the Teachers weren't concerned I'd recommend you reread the chapter. Maybe you missed it when I showed you that they were, even if I didn't tell you.**

" **Are Harry's issues with dementors resolved now?"**

 **No. Not for two more chapters, depending. Or, depending on what you mean by 'issues' then never.**

 **With that out of the way we'll start the Hanged Man.**

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" _As humans, we have invented lots of useful kinds of lies. As well as lies-to-children ('as much as they can understand'), there are lies-to-bosses ('as much as they need to know') lies-to-patients ('they won't worry about what they don't know') and -for all sorts of reasons, lies-to-ourselves. Lies-to-children is simply a prevalent and necessary kind of lie." - Terry Pratchett_

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Tracey was crestfallen that the Headmaster had deemed it unfit for Harry to visit Hogsmeade. It was 'so unfair', and a 'grave injustice' that she wouldn't be able to visit the village with her friends.

"Do you want us to bring you anything, mate?" Neville asked. "A butterbeer?"

"I'll get you a treacle tart from Honeydukes," Daphne assured him, patting his robe consolingly. "Unless you, ah, want something else?"

He just nodded and waved them off.

Harry himself didn't actually mind all that much; he could finally have some time to himself. He needed it to practice the patronus charm, and to get ahead in classes.

It wouldn't do to continue slipping, as he had been.

Harry paced patiently toward his room. The patronus first, then Ancient Studies and Magical Theory. Then, if he had time, he wanted to work on studying the Apauruseya, the God-like witches and wizards from India. He also really needed to start that Herbology project soon if he ever hoped it to go anywhere at all. He turned a corner, only to come face-to-face with Filch. He had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.

"What are you doing?" Filch snarled suspiciously.

"Nothing," said Harry, truthfully.

"Nothing?" The caretaker spat, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. "A likely story, I'm sure. Sneaking around on your own - why aren't you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms, like the rest of your nasty little friends?"

 _I will crush your brain._

Harry wanted to warn the old squib. In Harry's current state he wouldn't be able to do much with his talents against a witch or wizard, but a non-magical like Filch? The man stood no chance.

Harry walked into his room in a decidedly worse mood and glanced up at the magical lights which twisted in the air, forming a sort of chandelier… if one were to ignore the principle components of a chandelier; like being solid, and having branches to carry the lights.

So, not really like a chandelier, more of a loose swarm of bright lights.

Harry could hear the crackle of the fire from the other room, and could smell a little smoke, which meant his enchantments might be failing. He walked into the lounge and removed the runes, deciding to simply start over later.

Refocusing on the task, he dredged up the particular memory he was using.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," he murmured, to no effect.

He shook his head. Whatever he was doing wrong had to be fundamental for him to failing so completely; although, he couldn't think what it might be. He was focused, and was definitely supplying what he felt was sufficient power. The memory he was using was happy, joyous even, but there was still nothing coming from the tip of his wand. Nothing at all.

 _Why?_

He glanced to the far wall of the entrance hall, to the room where he had hidden the boggart. He frowned, not even close to being ready to take that thing on again.

Ancient Studies and Magical Theory it was then. He moved to a desk and began to take notes on blood rituals from Central America. Meteomancy applied to staggering scales, the sort that could shelter a place from a hurricane and end a drought. It was the kind of magic that could only come from human sacrifice or, should it be necessary, sacrifices. It was the fine balance between history and magical knowledge that struck him; it could well be used for both his projects.

Plus, he wanted the excuse to study blood and sacrificial magic. He jotted down notes into his journal that he could turn into an essay at a later point, before growing bored and moving on to the next thing that struck his fancy.

He studied for hours before Daphne joined him from Hogsmeade, bearing a tart with her like an offering. She handed it to him and he set it aside with some murmured thanks.

She ran her hand along the seats of the quartz table as she walked over. When she was next to him her hand brushed the surface and, for an infinitesimal moment, her eyes grew wide and flicked to his left. There was nothing there but a blank wall. Well, that, and the silenced and hidden boggart he had brought down the night before. Her eyes moved so fast he was sure he was mistaken. She wrung her fingers oddly… She had been fidgety and touchy recently… since the alley?

Maybe?

He set it in his mind.

"Working on anything interesting?" There was an odd invitation in her voice. She sat down next to him and he eyed her curiously. Had she always traced her fingers along the backs of the seats like that?

What's going on with her?

"What?" She asked when his stare didn't lighten. She turned slightly red, eyes narrowing. "Are you using Legilimency on me?"

He shook his head, reaching into his bag to remove a slightly blood-stained copy of _Red Sealed Enchantments_. It was a guide to enchantments that utilized blood magic. He was using it for his Aztec studies, as well as his attempts to create a pensieve in the other room. The enchantments for a pensieve were inordinately complex, and he wasn't sure he had regained enough strength to even perform them. Blood magic offered an alternative.

Daphne eyed the blood stains. " _Red Sealed Enchantments_? What is it?"

"I believe that I can enchant that dais in the other room into a pensieve with blood magic." He watched her carefully. "It might help with the secret passage you wanted to make."

"Oh?" She eyed the book less suspiciously as he slid it towards her, instinctively leaning back in her seat as it came closer. "I'll take a look at it, um… later. Is it from the Restricted Section?"

He noted the attempt to change the subject.

 _She doesn't usually shy away from enchanting…_

He eyed her posture.

 _...literally, or metaphorically._

He nodded. "Did the blood magic give it away?" He turned away for a bite of the treacle tart. "I figured we could start on that secret passage way, if you're still interested."

She nodded and gingerly picked the book up as though it might bite her. Lisa had acted much the same that night in the Restricted Section. From what he had seen, it wasn't an entirely unwarranted response.

"Or, did you want to practice occlumency?" He gently set his wand on the table baiting a trap.

When he turned back he saw her eyeing his wand, her hand a little closer to it than was strictly polite. When she realized what she was doing she turned back to him quickly, as though caught somehow.

"Huh?' She seemed distracted.

"I asked if you wanted to practice occlumency." He pulled his wand into his hand.

"Are you feeling up to it?" She sounded slightly nervous. He thumbed his jaw at the question, considering it, before shrugging with a slight nod.

She hadn't been so nervous when asking him to practice when when he was ill and hiding in the room. Had she come in, knowing that he was incapable of it? Did that make her more confident?

"I'm alright," he informed her. "Unless you've given up on it."

She narrowed her eyes lightly at the challenge, as he predicted she would, but seemed to struggle. He saw some of the same emotion she left with that day in the alley, alongside much more newly-acquired anxiety.

"Not today." She shook her head. "I-I need to send a letter." She stood and exited, as though in some retreat.

She had something to hide, certainly. She also had some sort of conflicting emotions about him being in her head. He recalled what she had felt when they practiced occlumency that day in the Alley. He found little in his experience to relate it to.

He pulled out his mirror. "Neville?"

He waited a few moments for his friend to answer, and eventually saw Neville's round face come into view.

"Harry?"

"Are you still interested in working with me on that project I mentioned on the train?" Harry asked. "I did some reading, and I think I can make it work if I had your help."

Neville seemed to positively glow at the prospect. "Yeah, of course mate. You want me to come to the room?"

Harry nodded and closed the connection, sparing a glance at the door through which Daphne had escaped.

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Harry spent the next month working on his projects, both for school, and his more personal studies. Of note was the arithmancy array he brought to Professor Vector regarding the killing curse, in the hopes of better understanding it. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a dead end.

There was some nervous energy in Daphne, and a barrier appeared to have grown between them. It made things a little awkward, even for him.

He tried to recall the feelings that Daphne had felt and what they meant, but he was lost without a compass.

Social problems aside, there was also Quidditch, the second match of the year after Gryffindor beat Slytherin. It would be Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff to start off his season, and now it was time to face the music. Harry picked up his broomstick from Flitwick and made his way to the grounds with his team, after a non-existent breakfast.

On a positive note, he had managed some sleep the night before, and even had dinner, so he had that going for him.

 _Less_ good, was the fact that the wind was downright ferocious. Harry could see posters being ripped from the hands of people in the crowd, even as rain lashed down in great sheets to rip him from his broom. He ducked beneath a loss umbrella, only to watch it collide with Roger Davies. Harry knew better than to think the match would be cancelled over this. Quidditch matches went on regardless of inclement weather.

He saw lightning, feeling the thunder roll overhead a moment later, and thought of Indra – one of the Apauruseya and an electrokinetic – and of Thunderbirds. He really should study more. Well, he wasn't sure he _could_ study more. All of his free time currently went into it.

Harry eyed up his opponent in Cedric Diggory; a fifth year, and a lot bigger than Harry. Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course.

Harry had been left staggering even with his feet on the ground thanks to the wind, he could only imagine how bad it would be when he was up in the air with only his broom's enchantments as an anchor.

Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount your brooms." He assumed she said it loudly but from the distance of a few meters away it was inaudible. He pulled his right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips, and Harry could only assume that she blew it because Diggory took off.

Harry kicked off after him.

Harry rose fast, but his Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. He held it as steady as he could and turned, squinting into the rain.

It was a little cold, but no worse than the cold already inside him. It almost felt comfortable being out in the storm, with the heavy rain and lightning. The cold out here couldn't touch him, because it was already there from the start.

He could do without the hail though.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he rolled to avoid a bludger he could barely see coming. He was losing track of time, and had no idea how he would even see the snitch, much less catch it like this.

Harry heard a thunderclap and saw lightning fork down onto the hoops. He could smell the ozone, and his hair was set on end just from proximity. He moved away, swinging toward the middle of the pitch, hoping he would be able to see the snitch from there. Diggory was shooting up the field, following something gold. The wind howled around him as he pursued.

Harry beamed across the field, the wind picking up in his ears as pushed his broom for speed. Abruptly, he felt truly chilled for the first time since the match begun, and realized he could no longer hear the wind. He could feel screaming from deep within his chest, echoing inside his head.

 _Surely not._

Harry's hands slipped on his iced-up broom, forcing his eyes down. There must have been a hundred dementors suspended beneath him. Even with his mind closed like a vice he could hear it. There were… words this time; more than just inarticulate screaming.

" _Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

" _Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now…"_

" _Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"_

 _Be quiet._

He held the voices back and shut his mind even tighter, feeling like icy fingers were crushing his brain. It didn't work.

Harry felt like he was falling.

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Consciousness came back in a rush, and Harry sat straight up with a genuine scream as he felt himself burn. He panted, gripping his skull. He felt hair come away in his clenched fingers as he clawed his skull tighter.

He woke Daphne and Tracey up, both squealing in fright.

" _Lily run! I'll hold him off!"_

" _Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy…"_

"Shut up," he snarled out loud, voice rising until he was yelling. "Leave… me… alone!"

He heard something shatter and someone talking to him distantly.

" _Would you beg?"_

"I said be quiet!" He snapped.

He snatched his wand from the table beside him he trembled and had to claw for it to stop it from falling off the table.

He stood up, or… tried to, but he wobbled and fell.

He managed it the next time, still shaking. He could now make out blurs, but he ignored them, the voices drowning out all else.

" _What would you give for your son's life?"_

Someone tried to grab him, and he was unable to fight back.

" _Anything-please, anything!"_

" _Crucio."_

Harry screamed as his skull was torn open and he was forced onto the bed.

" _Any-anything, my Lord. Please, have mercy."_

Harry saw a light.

 _This is mercy._

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The next time consciousness reached Harry it was still agony. He felt like he was freezing and melting all at once.

He released a low sort of croaking noise, only to realise how raw and hoarse his throat felt. He could hear the screams and voices echoing in his head.

"…awake? Harry?"

"Headmaster?" Harry croaked. He put a limp hand over his eyes to block out the too-bright lights.

"How do you feel?" Dumbledore asked from somewhere to Harry's right.

"I'm burning," he managed. "Sir."

"I'm told you aren't running a fever," the wizened man murmured softly. "I believe it's time that we had a chat, Harry, should you feel up to it."

Harry heard the not-request in the man's voice and nodded once. He felt a warm cup be placed in his hands and was glad to feel chocolate begin to soothe the ache in his throat, warming him up from within.

"When I saw how you were healing after the attack on the train, I had believed the worst was behind us. I was concerned, and several teachers even brought your condition to my attention. Especially Professor Flitwick, who informed me that you weren't seem in the Ravenclaw commons. It seems that you rarely return to your dormitory." The old man paused. "I summoned your friend Mr. Longbottom, and learned that you desired to be alone, that you believed Madam Pomfrey could do nothing to help you. But, your school work gradually improved, and I took the time to observe your room. You were doing well enough that I trusted your recovery would continue." The wizard gave another breath. "The only question now, is how to proceed after this… relapse."

 _Attack. I was attacked._

The Headmaster was waiting. It seemed he wanted to know how Harry wished to proceed. "I think, headmaster, that I can recover perfectly fine on my own."

He could practically feel the Headmaster's disagreement.

"Now, I have several options ahead of me. As you so gently told the Weasley family, a mind healer is always an option." Harry sucked in a breath. "Yes, I figured you'd react poorly to that. I could mandate it, of course, as your guardian, but I felt it would be counterproductive."

"I think you should have more trust in me, Sir." There was something sharp in Harry's voice. Sharper than he meant it to sound.

"Now young man. I have trusted you to heal, I've trusted you with the entirety of our library, here. Blood magic and soul magic, Harry? Studying curses, too? When Professor Vector reported you asked about the arithmancy of the killing curse I let it slide because I trusted you. Now, I need you to trust me."

Harry breathed.

"Then what have you decided?" He asked, abashed.

"We're going to talk, Harry."

"About what?"

"Whatever you wish," Dumbledore told him. "Though I'd appreciate it very much if we could begin with something in the general vicinity of the Dementors."

Harry paused. "Is my notebook here?" He would have to play the Headmaster's game. Something slid into his hands and he opened his eyes. He and the Headmaster were alone in the dimmed Hospital Wing.

He flicked open the journal to the section on Dementors, a glance through it gave him nothing new. He sat up more and looked at the Headmaster.

"Anything in particular?"

Dumbledore gave a slow nod now that the ball was back in his court. "Ms. Turpin mentioned you heard screaming on the train. Three days ago, when you woke up, you reacted similarly."

Harry wanted to point out there wasn't a question in there, but knew better than to be pedantic. "My mother, I think. Begging for her life. Voldemort too. Maybe my father as well."

"Voices?"

Harry nodded.

"Ms. Turpin didn't mention voices."

"I didn't hear them on the train," Harry said quietly. "Just my mother, screaming."

Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Do you believe these are memories, or something the Dementors are imparting to you?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure. I know that they are some kind of Legilimens so either is possible."

"They aren't Empaths?"

Harry shook his head. "An Empath wouldn't have triggered Ginny Weasley on the train like that."

"Truly?"

"An Empath would have made her miserable, but only a Legilimens could have triggered specific memories and trauma like that."

"Astute of you, Harry." Dumbledore's eyes conveyed his smile. "A noteworthy discovery. It would be difficult to publish, but remarkable nonetheless. Anything else?"

"Boggarts," Harry blurted. "Did you know?" Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "They're Legilimens too."

"Professor Lupin did mention the effect your Boggart had on you." Dumbledore nodded. "Do you believe that this is also how they learn our fears and consume them?"

Harry nodded.

"Remarkable, Harry." Dumbledore gave some sort of proud yet pitying look. "You have not been idle."

"No, Sir."

"Have you been practicing the patronus?"

Harry nodded. "I can't even produce mist." Something in his voice must have gotten across the unvoiced request for help.

"Then you aren't using a happy enough memory." Dumbledore mused, hearing the silent question. "What are you using?"

Harry looked down.

"A memory I took from a woman some years ago," he said softly. "She was getting engaged. It's the happiest I have."

"Oh, Harry." Harry almost flinched. He met Dumbledore's sad blue eyes when he heard the mournful voice. "Another's memory, no matter how happy, cannot make us ourselves happy. It cannot touch us deeply enough." Dumbledore looked almost choked. "You will find more success with one of your own. Something more intimate."

"Intimate?" The books hadn't mentioned that.

"Not necessarily sexual." Dumbledore held up a hand and seemed to recover himself. "Though such memories would likely work. Your memory, Harry, must be the happiest _you've_ ever felt. It must be personal. It is the nature of such unique magic to have a unique source."

Harry looked down at his journal, wanting to make a note.

Dumbledore extended a hand towards Harry towards the notebook. "May I?"

Harry had to be the one to open it. Had Dumbledore brought it for this purpose? Harry shook his head. He needed to trust Dumbledore.

He held out the journal.

Dumbledore took the book and turned down to examine it. He turned a page. "The Apauruseya, Harry? Interested in Indian magical legends?"

Harry nodded, feeling somehow embarrassed. It felt like some deep, private part of himself had just been put on full display.

"I was more interested in powerful magical artifacts when I was your age, than magical people," Dumbledore said in an odd tone. "Though, it is similar. Have you discovered anything?"

Harry frowned. "Maybe?"

Dumbledore nodded, seeming content with that. Harry felt himself, oddly enough, relaxing.

"Herbology?" Dumbledore looked at Harry from the book. "Not your forte, Harry."

"Muggles interbreed plants to produce more efficient varieties." Harry shrugged. "Why can't we?"

Dumbledore nodded again, turning his gaze back to the book.

"Sir?" Harry asked at the same time Dumbledore began to ask about the next project. "You first," he muttered apologetically.

Dumbledore's eyes considered him for a moment before he acquiesced. "Enchanting a Pensieve?"

Harry nodded. "I, well, I had hoped to get a copy of your duel."

He didn't specify which duel. He didn't have to.

Dumbledore smiled wistfully before turning his attention back to the notebook. "Your notes mention sacrifice." Dumbledore looked back up at Harry from the book. "Blood magic?"

"I wasn't strong enough to cast the enchantments I needed to. I figured I could use blood magic and sacrifice and figure out a way to allow others to use it, even though I would use my blood."

Dumbledore nodded. "It's possible, yes. A bit abstract, like all complex magic, but it shouldn't be too difficult, though I must ask what you intended to sacrifice."

"The books you bought me for my birthday," Harry said slowly. "They're significant to me and so have value." Harry paused and considered. "And I suppose I could replace them."

"I had hoped to scare you away from such magics. I could claim that I never looked into such things, but that would be hypocritical." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Replacing the books would undo the intent of the sacrifice Harry, from there, should you attempt to push the ritual through it would extract its price from something else, that you don't have control of."

That could have been bad. He looked down and Dumbledore touched his shoulder.

"Remember, Harry," he began. "While I would prefer that you leave such things behind, I can't truly stop you from giving something like this up. Just remember that I have dabbled in such magic and should you like to discuss it with me, my door is open to you. Trust me, Harry. I can keep you from repeating our mistakes, but only if you trust me."

 _Our?_

"You don't want me to stop?" Harry asked confused.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Of course I want you to stop. But I'd rather know that you were doing it, and know that you were doing it _safely_ , rather than have you doing it where I can't see or help you. I am a teacher, Harry, as well as your guardian."

Harry nodded once.

"Now I believe you were going to ask me something?" Dumbledore looked at him with electric eyes.

Harry gathered his courage. "Why did I go to the Dursley's?"

Dumbledore rubbed his brow as something that looked like shame came over him. "Not my shining moment. I had believed that they would love you and cherish you as family. I failed you in that regard, Harry. There, next to your mother's family, I believed that you would receive the greatest benefits from her sacrifice."

"Blood magic?" Harry asked.

"Most certainly," Dumbledore returned. "If not in name. It _was_ blood magic, however, I doubt your mother even intended to use it. She wished that you would be saved, so you were. It is abstract and perhaps blood magic by classification, if you examine it after the fact. A contract was certainly made."

"Sacrificial magic, then."

Dumbledore paused. "I considered others too. Sirius Black was named your Godfather by your parents."

Harry looked up. "Why didn't I go to him?"

"Sirius Black," Dumbledore began, sounding pained, "is a tragedy. He was your father's best friend and fought Voldemort beside them as an auror." Harry nodded. "However, he had family on the side of Voldemort. Some that he didn't care for and some that he did. But they died or were lost and then he lost your parents too. You see Harry, no matter who won the war, Sirius Black lost. I considered placing you in his care and would have, had he not made multiple attempts on his own life."

Ah.

"I'm told that he still has correspondence with one of his few living friends. One Remus Lupin."

"Professor Lupin? Was he one of my dad's friends too?"

"Yes, he and your father were exceptionally close."

"Then why-?"

"-Why didn't I let you live with Remus?" Dumbledore gave him a penetrating look. "Harry, Remus is unfit to be your guardian because, and I tell you this in the strictest of confidence, he is a werewolf."

Harry frowned, but nodded.

"There was no one else?"

"Technically, one," Dumbledore told him. "Peter Pettigrew was a third friend of your father's." Harry's eyes bulged. "However, when your parents trusted him with their location under the fidelius charm, he betrayed them to Voldemort."

"Peter Pettigrew?" Dumbledore nodded.

"That disqualified your family's former close friends." Dumbledore looked out a window. "Perhaps I could have impressed upon more distant family, but I felt your extant family was the best option."

Harry turned to see what had captured the Headmaster's attention outside. He could see nothing.

"You shattered these windows," Dumbledore said off-handedly, "when you woke up. We had to stun you."

Harry felt surprised and then ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

Dumbledore just shook his head and turned his gaze back to Harry's notebook. There was silence for a time.

"Now, Harry, I mentioned I wasn't concerned when professor Vector informed me about the arithmancy you had been studying, but I can't help but wonder; why?"

"I wanted to understand. The killing curse is one of the few pieces of magic that interacts with the soul beyond a touch, like _Hominum Revelio_." Twinkling blue eyes examined, and Harry continued. "What is the soul, Sir? What do Dementors do with them?"

"Confused about the nature of the soul, then?" Harry nodded. "You aren't alone in that regard. Perhaps a bit of history, to introduce the concept? The Greeks divided the person into soul and body. It is where our language gets words like 'psyche', but these words in modern language refer to the mind. You see, the Greeks imagined that the soul and mind were, by and large, one and the same, and many philosophies and religions reflect this teaching. Ancient Semitic scholars divided the person into three parts. A trinity of soul, mind, and body, which most modern magical schools of thought subscribe to. These same scholars divided the soul into ten parts, though modern magic theory contends that there is one more. They called it the Kabbalah, and the interactions of these parts make up the soul."

Harry paused to consider that. "So, what does that mean?"

"Not too helpful, is it? Modern magical theory has yet to map the soul, nor understand it beyond a few components. The soul can be split, torn, and removed. It can even heal, under the right circumstances. But should a person lose it, they will either die, or be reduced to a husk that would make anyone wish for the former."

"The killing curse, and a Dementor's kiss."

"Correct," Dumbledore affirmed. "Magical Theory seems to tell us that no two souls are identical, and that the 'amounts' of each component in the soul seem to impact our personality. You may wonder how this is different than mind magic, and then you will have arrived at the Greek philosophy. You have also reached the pinnacle of modern understanding of the soul."

"That's it?"

"It is a difficult and abstract subject, and little is known." Dumbledore stroked his beard. "There are hundreds of conflicting theories about it. As for what Dementors want with them…" Dumbledore paused to breath. "A soul is a powerful thing Harry, it is nothing less than the essence of a person. I suspect that there is great power in consuming a soul in the way Dementors do."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Have you cast the killing curse, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head.

Dumbledore followed with, "you've considered it."

It wasn't a question.

Harry met the old man's eyes and decided. He nodded once slowly. "Not on a person. I just wanted to know."

Dumbledore's face looked grin but he nodded. "Why didn't you?"

"I-I didn't _want_ to." He considered. "I wanted to know, yes, but I didn't want to."

"I did too," Harry looked shocked at Dumbledore, "when I was your age. Instead, I found a book in which someone else carried out the experiments I intended to do myself." Dumbledore looked down at the journal and pointed at a line. "You are correct when you hypothesized that summoned animals lack souls. They are too complex and too fine a thing to merely be summoned by mere wizards." Dumbledore smiled softly. "You are more like me than you think, and I am proud that you didn't want to cast the spell. I doubt either of our contemporaries had such doubts."

"Grindelwald and Voldemort," Harry surmised.

Dumbledore nodded. "If I may be so arrogant, Harry. I am an exceptional wizard." Harry nodded; who didn't know that? "Every once in a while, a wizard is born who stands head and shoulders above their peers. The sort who are born great. You have likely heard of Voldemort, and Grindelwald. You yourself, I believe, are such a wizard. Morgana, Merlin, the founders, all of them had the power. As did Nerida Vulchanova, the founder of Durmstrang."

"Me?" Harry asked.

"You." Dumbledore nodded. "It's not that your peers don't compete with you, Harry. You must understand, they cannot. I was much the same, as was Tom. Not only are you powerful and talented, you are also," Dumbledore lightly wiggled the notebook, "an exceptional student, and you will shape the world long after I am gone. I am proud to teach and mentor such a fine pupil."

Dumbledore turned back towards the book.

"A fine bit of magic," Dumbledore looked through bespectacled eyes down at the book. "Though perhaps, not unique."

"You're referring to Tom Riddle's diary." Harry frowned. It felt like there was some accusation in Dumbledore's voice. "I enchanted the notebook before I learned about it."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, but he still looked slightly pained.

"We're similar," Harry guessed solemnly, having already begin to put the pieces together himself, "he and I?"

"Oh?" the Headmaster looked over his glasses.

"Don't," Harry demanded. "You know." Harry cut off the game before it could begin.

The Professor, in the end, simply sighed. "I do know."

"Half-bloods, orphans, parselmouths, books, best in our years," Harry listed. "What else don't I know?"

"Tom Riddle was interested in magic, soul magic, blood magic, and even mind magic." Dumbledore informed him. "Or were you looking for something more specific?"

"Legilimency?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "When I met him, he claimed to always know when people lied to him. He cared little for those who would have stood next to him, nor the witches who threw themselves at him. Perhaps not dissimilar to yourself in some of these social aspects. He had trouble recognizing and understanding the emotions of others." Dumbledore gave him a sad look. "He knew anger, however. I knew something was wrong and I let him leave unopposed."

"Will you let me leave unopposed?"

Dumbledore frowned looking pained. "Harry, it is the ways you are different that matter; not the similarities."

 _That wasn't an answer._

"Why are we similar?" Harry asked. "I don't understand."

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "When I first asked this question, I had little to go on, but I believe an examination of your parselmouth abilities would be most elucidating." Dumbledore seemed to be settling in for a lecture. "The ability seems to only manifest in those related to Salazar Slytherin, at least in recent history, say, the last thousand years. Certain legends go beyond that, but I believe that a thousand years is long enough to establish a pattern."

"So, that I can speak parseltongue means that…"

"You are related to Salazar Slytherin," Dumbledore confirmed. "But neither your mother, nor your father demonstrated the ability at any point. Perhaps your mother was descended from a squib offshoot of the family and her blood wasn't considered pure enough for the whatever enchantment allows parseltongue to manifest."

The Headmaster checked a finger.

"Or perhaps the Potter family simply hid the ability."

He checked another.

"Or, and this being the most convoluted explanation," the Headmaster continued. "Perhaps the Potter family was descended from Salazar Slytherin, but distantly enough that the magic didn't take hold, _and_ your mother was too. Thus, only together did their child have enough of Salazar Slytherin's blood for the magic to take hold."

Dumbledore checked a third finger.

That _was_ convoluted.

"Or?"

"Or." The Headmaster nodded his agreement, holding up a thumb with three other fingers. "Or, that night in Godric's Hollow all those years ago, Voldemort transferred some of his powers, to you."

"Sir?" Harry felt bewildered. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know the specifics, but we must remember that no one knows what happened that night you destroyed Voldemort. Voldemort experimented with blood magic extensively, and likely cast curses involving intimate soul magic. Who could say for certain?"

That seemed… fair. Magic was odd, even when it worked as it was supposed to.

"So, you don't know about my connection to Voldemort."

"I'm afraid not, Harry." Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid that I should be off, and you should be asleep. We'll meet again soon, I should think." Dumbledore stood up and swept from the room.

Harry frowned, but all in all, he had to admit he felt… _better_.

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"I'll meet you down in the room," Daphne said from above him, the words filtering through his morning funk. He opened his eyes a peak and saw Daphne standing to the side of his bed, facing away from him.

"You mean Harry's study?" A voice that was undoubtedly Tracey's giggled, and Harry could imagine Daphne fuming. "Don't take too long with sleeping beauty."

He saw Daphne shake her head and heard Tracey exit the Hospital Wing. Daphne turned back towards him before looking at his nightstand, where his journal and wand sat. She glanced back at him before extending a hand towards his things.

When he grabbed her wrist she gave a surprised squeak and covered her mouth.

"Harry!" She looked like she wanted to smack him. She turned slightly red, like she had been caught with her hand stuck in the cookie jar. "That wasn't funny."

He sat up slowly, still holding her wrist. She looked down at the contact and flushed. He glanced between her and his possessions.

"You're okay?" She asked after a moment to gather her wits. "You almost died."

"I didn't almost die." It sounded more confident than he felt.

"You're shaking right now, and you fell a hundred feet! There were _dozens_ of Dementors!"

"I was shaking before."

"And you look cold," She said.

He nodded. He _was_ cold. There was silence.

"Plus, you screamed yourself hoarse. You woke up screaming and pulling out your hair. You nearly scalped yourself. You… you scared me. Tracey too."

She exhaled, and slid something behind her.

"What's that?" He asked, pointing.

"What was what?"

He gave her a flat look.

She handed over a get-well card, that looked distinctly hand-made, from Ginny Weasley. He opened it, only to immediately snap it shut when it tried to sing shrilly at him.

"Yeah, you can have that back." He couldn't hand it over fast enough.

"Harry," she took a nervous step closer. "You don't seem as bad… well you're not…"

"I'm better than last time?" He finished. "What doesn't kill you, et cetera, et cetera."

"So… you're okay?" She took a timid step closer, even as she twirled her hair between her fingers.

He nodded, only to shake his head after a moment's thought. "Yes, and no."

At her look he continued.

"I'm not as...injured. They didn't get too close and I kept them out," He remembered the voices he heard, "for the most part. I had a chat with Dumbledore and he gave me some advice. I think I can get a patronus to work now. Then I'll move on to…" He gave her a look.

"...to the boggart you have locked in the room?" She gave him a cute, pleading look. "Harry, please don't."

"You know I'm gonna."

"Harry, why?! Why can't you just take a moment? Why can't you relax and just get better? You push and push and it's no wonder you get hurt so often, and it really hurts me to see it! It hurts all of your friends." She crossed her arms, turning away from him. "We all feel so helpless. I just have to watch you get hurt, over and over again."

"Daphne, come on." He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "I'm healing, and I don't like what's happening to me any more than you do. Besides, you guys _are_ helping me."

A flurry of emotions crossed her face; anger, self-pity, impotence, disbelief, happiness. It was enough to make Harry's head spin. She leaned in and hugged him, and he almost jumped. He slowly put his arms around her in return. "I'm alright," he whispered.

After a moment she pulled back and stepped away. She was wiping her eyes. "Don't do that again," she said. "Okay? Just… work on your patronus."

She walked away from him and out of the wing.

He was informed by his friends in the room that evening, that he had lost the match, but Cho Chang had recovered his broom before anything catastrophic could happen. He'd have to thank her for that.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a squeaky, quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of… slowed down, before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors, shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away. He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. He left for the ministry that day to try and remove the Dementors."

He shot a questioning glance to Lisa and Neville.

"The Dementors are still around," Lisa said. "The Minister is really digging in his heels. I've heard that he can be stubborn."

 _Wasn't her mother in trouble at the Ministry for something?_

Neville, however, interpreted his gaze correctly and continued by letting him know that it was Wednesday and that he had only missed three days of classes.

Lisa and Hermione shared a look. "Harry," Lisa began. "We were thinking-"

 _Oh Boy._

"-Maybe you should consider not playing Quidditch."

"Not play Quidditch?" He repeated, stunned. The words themselves made sense and were correct, grammatically speaking, but together they didn't make sense.

"You get hurt a lot doing it," Hermione pointed out. "You'd be safer on the ground."

"They've got a good point," Neville supported with a shrug.

"But I _like_ Quidditch," Harry said. And he did. He loved the air and wind in his face. He loved the rain and storms which harassed players. It was comfortable, and exciting.

"Harry also has a good point," Neville said, turning back towards them like he was officiating a tennis match. When he saw their faces, he followed quickly by saying, "everyone has excellent points."

"Just think about it, won't you Harry?" Hermione gave him a pleading look.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Yeah, I'll give it some thought."

"He's already decided." Lisa closed her book shut and stood up. "I'm turning in."

Harry lingered in the study for a few hours more, even as his friends marched off to bed. They shot him concerned glances but didn't press the issue. They probably thought he wasn't going to sleep. They were right, but Harry had never slept much anyway. They filed out until only Daphne remained.

"Harry? Are you going back to the Ravenclaw Common room?"

"How did you know about the Boggart, Daphne?" He saw her flinch back.

"Well… I knew that-"

"-You never mentioned your father was psychometric." He kept up the pressure. "When did it start?"

She looked gobsmacked. "Harry I-"

"Was it after you began practicing occlumency?" He pushed on. "That will do it."

She looked upset, but also confused.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked.

She looked like she wanted to smack him again, but then just sort of… sagged, looking resigned. "No, I'm not mad. I just wanted to be able to tell you, when I was ready." She bit her lip and pouted slightly. "How did you figure it out?" She suddenly looked a lot more furious. She stepped closer. "Were you in my head?"

He shook his head. "I haven't been in your head since the Alley."

She turned pink.

"The way you touched the table and knew about my conversation with Neville, that day when he forgot his book. You didn't touch the bloodstained book, but you wanted to touch my wand." He shrugged. "You weren't subtle."

"You tricked me!"

"I trapped you and you walked into it." He smirked. "Well, ran into it really."

"I've never run from anything," she asserted heatedly.

He looked down at her. They were standing a little close. She took a step back and he could almost hear the occlumency exercises wheeling in her head as she tried to wrangle her emotions.

"You don't get to almost die and then wake up and know my secrets."

"Sorry," he apologized without even attempting to sound sincere.

She just shook her head. "I'm not very good at it. My father was much more powerful. I can get images from an object, maybe a bit of knowledge, but it's usually just emotions."

"Was that why you were surprised when you discovered the Boggart?"

She looked at him. "You saw that?"

"Again, not subtle," he supplied. "Your father studied occlumency, right? That's why he was more powerful. He had a closer connection to the mind arts."

"So if I keep practicing, I'll get stronger?"

"Every mind is unique, but yeah, probably."

"Practice?" She asked. "Like the Boggart?"

He nodded. "We could work on the Boggart together."

She looked him up and down, before sighing. "You really do seem okay."

She stood next to him and they stared out the window overlooking the black lake together. It was still stormy, but the rain had stopped falling. "You know that you can talk to me, right Harry? You can trust me."

He thought about it. He… he did trust her. Probably more than anyone save _perhaps_ Dumbledore.

"I know," he said, and breathed out. "Everyone says that Dementors are horrible and foul creatures. But no one else collapses near them."

"Weasley did, on the train."

"She was a puppet of Voldemort's for almost a year. Hardly the benchmark I want to set myself to. I'm not supposed to be weak, not like that."

"You're just… vulnerable, for some reason." She was trying to be comforting.

"Do you hear your father? When you get close to them?" He asked her. She stiffened beside him, but shook her head. "Can you see the thestrals that pull the carts to and from school?"

"Harry the carts pull themsel-"

"No, they don't." She looked stumped by that.

"Where are you going with this?"

"I hear my mother," he said simply. "I hear her screaming."

"Oh…"

"My father too, and Voldemort. He just… kills them, maybe he tortures them. I can hear what they said. I can hear them beg for their lives." He felt himself shake.

"What did they say?"

"The first two words I ever knew," he said. "I used to lie awake thinking about them. What do they mean? Why do I know them? Where did I hear them from?"

"Harry? You're scaring me." She said softly.

"Sorry." He exhaled again. "I'm scared too." He mustered his courage to tell her.

"What are the words?"

"Daphne, you're the brightest witch of our age," he said, matter-of-factly. She looked ashen. "You can guess."

 _Avada Kadavra_.

She hugged him tightly in her arms. It was his second hug ever, and, if he was being honest with himself, which he at least tried to be, it was pretty awesome.

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" _Imagine my surprise when I learned that social animals deprived of social activity become socially stunted."_

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 **I won't be back until next week. I've got some tests coming up. Next chapter should wrap up third year, though there might be another, in the first case the next chapter will be The Hermit. If the later is true it will be titled Cloudburst.**

 **WG**


	10. Cloudburst

**Beta: Digitize 27**

 **Now, 'Cloudburst'**

 _I publicly answer questions at my forum for this story._

 **It's been a good run, but it's time to leave pretty much all of cannon goodbye. It's time for Harry to grow more powerful and for a lot of moving pieces to come together.**

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" _This is the tragedy of modernity: as with neurotically overprotective parents, those trying to help are often hurting us the most" – Nassim Nicholas Taleb_

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When Harry was summoned by the Headmaster in mid-November he already knew what it would be about. He was oddly looking forward to the discussion, in a way he couldn't describe.

He held his notebook in hand as he paced towards the Gargoyle which protected the Headmaster's office.

"Toffee Tongues," he told it, and it bounded aside.

A soft, "come in," echoed from inside when he stepped off the ascending staircase, and he wasted no time opening the door to step through into the office. He did, however, take a moment to admire the silver magical instruments that spun and whirled and whizzed.

Hours of enchanting by the world's premier wizard went into these artifacts. Each of them were priceless; even without knowing what they did, he was sure of that much.

"Ah, Harry." The old man was behind his desk. "Have a seat, won't you?"

Harry did so at once.

"Lemon drop, Harry?" The sorcerer extended a wooden box full of yellow-colored sweets. Harry had heard from Tracey that, according to widespread rumors, the sweets were laced with veritaserum. Harry selected one and put it into his mouth.

The protege trusted the mentor, just as the hierophant trusted the initiate. Dumbledore did not need to use potions to get Harry to tell him the truth, not when the teen trusted him absolutely.

However, the sour taste was a little much for him and he figured he would have to pass on the sweets next time.

"Madam Sprout tells me that Mr. Longbottom has been asking questions about selective breeding in magical plants. I can only assume this is the project I read from your notes last time." The old man had a proud smile. "Is it what you expected?"

Harry shook his head. "It's more difficult than I thought. Hybrid vigor is… tough, to predict."

"What plants did you select?"

"We want to make it work for dittany, I had hoped that we could help it to grow in non-mediterranean environments."

"You would save many lives with such a development." The old man nodded proudly as he reclined in his chair. "Mr. Longbottom is an interesting talent."

"Neville is perfectly talented," Harry returned. "He just needs more confidence. His magic fails because he's been conditioned to believe that it will."

"You seem familiar with this process."

Harry considered it. "It happened to me, after the dementor's. At least part of my problem was purely mental; I can see that now."

"And the rest of the problem?"

"I'm unsure, Sir."

"Hmm." The wizard gently sucked one of his own sweets. "And your patronus?"

"Just mist," Harry confessed. He had made little progress in the month since their last conversation. "It's... uniquely difficult."

Dumbledore nodded. "It is a most complicated spell. Though, I suspect that it may be more difficult for you than most."

"Sir?"

"You are magically talented enough to cast the spell; powerful, too." Dumbledore stroked his beard. "However, it is a spell that draws from happiness, many have so little experience with such a precious thing."

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Did you struggle with the spell?"

"Oh yes, for years." Seeing Harry's crestfallen look, the man pushed on. "I doubt that it will take you so long."

Harry nodded, grateful for the man's confidence.

"Your other projects? Have they come along as well?"

"Some. The pensieve is finished."

"Ah, you went through with it then. I take it you would like to ask me for the memory of my most famous duel?"

Harry nodded.

"I am curious as to why, Harry."

"It's the most important duel of the century, Sir, perhaps of the last two."

"Indeed, though if you wished to know of the historical impact of my duel, there are other methods to do so," Dumbledore counted easily. "Much more efficient avenues to learn about such a thing."

"Historical opinion pieces written half a century after the event, based solely on second hand sources?" Harry returned. "Hardly an accurate source of knowledge. I want to learn how to duel too, Sir. I want to know how it was done between two wizards like you."

"And I wish that none so young as you would ever need to learn to fight." The wizard rolled a candy in his mouth. "Though perhaps this is for the best. Better to be ready."

"Ready for what, sir?"

"I am not so foolish as to think that you will live only in peaceful times through your life, young man." Dumbledore gave him a glimmering look. "Perhaps studying the spells that Grindelwald and myself used is merely a bonus?"

"That too, Sir." Harry nodded. Though, if he was honest, that was probably one of the more enticing aspects of studying the masters' fight.

"I shall give it to you." Dumbledore said, after several long moments of consideration. "Though I must ask for your discretion regarding the memory and its contents."

Harry nodded his consent to the terms. He would have agreed to a lot in order to view that legendary clash.

The man continued, gesturing to a book on the table. "You never asked for it, Harry, but this is the book which contains the knowledge on the Killing-Curse you sought."

Harry looked at it. It was a dark book with yellow pages and looked like it had seen more than just better days.

 _Lebendig, eine kategorische Studie_

"It's in German?"

The wizard nodded. "It is important for wizards such as ourselves to be well read; one language is hardly enough. Have you begun studying French at all?"

He had, but it was slow going. He wanted to cross the channel and spend some time in the thoughts of the people who spoke it. He severally hoped he would be able to steal the language outright, but failing that, such exposure to the language could only help him learn.

He was intimately jealous of the talents of Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The man was a magical polyglot and could learn new languages like eating crackers.

"It's slow, Sir."

"I am sure you will be conversationally fluent when it comes time to depart."

The man reached into his desk and withdrew a vial of silver fluid. He set it next to the book.

"Thank you, Sir." The man waved him off.

"I wished that, in my youth, a great wizard or witch could have guided me. I imagine I could have done a great deal more, and made far fewer mistakes, if I would have had a studious mentor."

Harry gave the Professor a dubious glance. The man had published several papers before he graduated, been awarded the Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, and received the gold medal for Ground-Breaking Contributions to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo, and that was just the cliff-notes of his storied career.

 _I can do even better, then_. _I have to._

"I had a question, Sir," Harry began after a moment of silence. "About Veela."

"Most young men do." Dumbledore nodded sagely.

"I meant about their aura."

"Ah. And?"

"Well it's not dissimilar to the influence of Dementors, is it? Just a different form of the same effect."

"Perhaps, though as you proved, Dementors use Legilimency. Are you so sure the Veela are not more empathic?"

"I suppose I can't be certain, without meeting one." Harry opened his notebook. "But, I think that the Dementor's aura can be imitated by wizards."

Dumbledore extended a hand and Harry handed over the book.

"I see elements of the Central American Meteomancy you were studying." Dumbledore traced a finger along an Arithmantic equation, one Harry believed modeled the cold affect the Dementor's exhuded. "I see your source of inspiration in Veela, Harry."

Veela could summon fire and radiated a field of emotion to their targets. Dementors were similar, but with cold and a different sort of emotion.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "And the Apauruseya."

Dumbledore looked up.

"I've always had a talent for the mind arts, it's not so different from a natural talent for pyrokinesis or electrokinesis like they displayed, is it?"

"Perhaps so." Dumbledore sounded doubtful. "Attempts to imitate Veela have always resulted in failure, though I suspect that those who did were interested in their powers for entirely different reasons than you are." Harry nodded. He wasn't attempting to sway witches and wizards to him.

"Furthermore, the Apauruseya are a vague subject, most would consider them mythical or exaggerated."

"Do you?"

"I never considered them seriously," Dumbledore confessed. "I chased very different myths, in my own youth."

Dumbledore handed the book back. "I would struggle to say that anything is impossible with magic, though I would consider this an ambitious challenge to that claim."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore doubted that it was possible, but he had logical reasons for doing so.

"That being said, I suspect you will leave me behind with your mastery of mind magic within the next half decade, Harry." Harry looked up, surprised. "I was always more interested in the way things changed. How magic could make an object flow from one form to another. Alchemy, transfiguration, conjuration and, to a slightly lesser degree enchanting, were my forte's and focus. I did things with a wand in my youth that my teachers didn't believe possible; but your abilities lean in a different direction, Harry."

 _Yes, but you didn't have a mentor like you._

Harry would strongly consider what Dumbledore told him, but he wouldn't give up.

"Now, I must ask if you are feeling better, Harry. If you still feel the effects of the Dementors?"

Harry frowned. "I don't hear voices anymore, or my mother; though, that only lasted the day."

"Something else then?"

"The cold." Dumbledore steepled his fingers.

"You feel the chill from the Dementors even now? Is it lingering?"

"It never stopped or receded," Harry admitted. "But…" He gathered himself. "Their magic shouldn't be clinging to me for so long. So, it must have another source, right?"

Dumbledore didn't respond.

"Since I feel the cold all the time, it must come from something I'm around just as often. So, perhaps the cold is coming from the only thing I'm in contact with that much."

"Yourself?"

Harry nodded.

"I'll have to consider this, Harry."

"Do you think it's serious?"

Dumbledore frowned and stroked his beard. "Perhaps. Be sure to inform me if it worsens or changes, won't you? In the meantime, I shall consider it, although, I must confess I haven't heard of such a thing." He at least seemed to be giving it serious thought, if his slightly furrowed brow was anything to go on.

"Is that all then, Harry?" When the teen gave no response he nodded, wiping the concern from his face in favour of a kindlier smile. "Very well. We shall meet again before the holidays."

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

When Harry returned the room, he found Neville diligently watering Grey-Toothed Berries. They were their first batch of modified plants and required diligent observation and care against a control. They were watching to see if the berries would grow larger, as they had hoped, due to the cross-breeding with non-magical blackberry plants.

"Hey Harry."

"Neville." Harry nodded back. "Anything interesting?"

"They _might_ be growing faster." Neville looked back and forth between a book on non-magical plants, his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , and the plants. "I really can't say. We won't know for sure for another week at the latest."

Neville was confident around plants, and Harry wished he could coax that out in other studies as well. At the rate Neville was going, he wouldn't be invited to Beauxbatons next year. That would leave him alone to deal with Malfoy, who probably wasn't going either without the help of a few well-placed bribes. Harry worried about him.

"Do you want to go to Beauxbatons?" Harry asked as he set down the German book on the quartz table.

"Well, I don't think that I'll qualify." The confidence gained from his preferred pastime couldn't have bled from his voice faster.

 _Be confident Neville._

"That's not what I asked," Harry said. "I could help you. You take first in Herbology easily, and maybe place high in Care, but Divination would be a toss-up. You place like you do in Herbology, as well as top ten in two or three other classes, and you've got a great chance to get in."

Neville looked even more anxious. "W-w-well I don't really know. I wouldn't want you to waste that much time on me."

"It wouldn't be a waste," Harry insisted. "Just think about it."

Himself, Daphne, and Hermione were practically guaranteed a spot for their year, but Lisa, Neville and Tracey really weren't.

"Er, yeah. I'll-uh-I'll do that. Sleep on it."

Harry nodded at him and sat down at the table. He touched his friend's mind gently and coaxed some confidence into Neville's head. It would be good for the other boy.

Neville finished with the plants before leaving and Harry sat down and finished his homework for the week in just a few hours.

Harry assumed that it was Dinner-time and he checked the clock to find it agreed. He stood up and focused his magic, trying to run it through the Arithmantic equations on Dementors he had written. It might have gotten colder, maybe. Although, he was still completely unsure about the other effects Dementors exhibited, and whether _they_ were working.

Perhaps he should try the spell which the Dementors had inspired him to create. He set up one of Neville's throw-away plants as a target.

" _Imputresco,_ " he murmured. One of the leaves he was pointing at rotted away and crumbled to dust under the effect of the spell. He felt reassured by the obvious success. It meant that the decaying effect the Dementor's possessed was imitable. It meant that maybe their other characteristics could be pursued as well.

He stood up and grabbed the memory vial Dumbledore had given to him and paced into the other room. He dropped the fluid into the waiting dias and leaned in without ceremony.

Dumbledore was younger by far, and stood across from a handsome looking wizard who Harry knew must be Grindelwald.

"-and?" Grindelwald extended his arms towards Dumbledore in a welcoming fashion. The memory began in such a way he missed whatever the infamous wizard had said.

"No, I've come to stop you, Gellert." Dumbledore replied, stepping forward and draw his wand.

Grindelwald's wizards and witches looked on, the fighting around the pair dying out as both sides turned to watch the confrontation. There was an electricity in thei air that went beyond words.

Grindelwald had been unstoppable, battles he participated in crushed Europe's remaining free fighters at each turn, and duels Dumbledore attended always ended well for greater Europe.

They were immensely talented wizards each, and everyone in the crowd knew it.

They both drew their wands and then there was thunder. The ground crumbled for nearly fifty meters in every direction when Grindelwald struck a powerful lance of blue light towards a great shimmering barrier contained between Dumbledore's fingers.

Harry had been standing amongst nearly a hundred men and women watching the confrontation, and now he was alone. They had been swept aside by the opening blow and Harry heard screaming. Harry looked down and saw a wizard who had been torn in half. People had been buried under rock and torn and twisted by the blast. Grindelwald stepped sideways and cast a dozen spells in an elegant chain which shot towards Dumbledore. Dumbledore stepped with him, circling each other over a center of obliterated ground.

Harry watched the spells Grindelwald shot miss or be deflected by elegant twists of Dumbledore's wrists. A witch who had been spared the blast, well, in that she _survived_ – likely because she had been standing directly behind Dumbledore –was pulverized until she was nearly flat, before exploding a moment later in an odd twist of space.

Dumbledore returned fire and the two exchanged simple spells like they were fencing. By simple spells, Harry meant they were just traditional spell-fire. Neither was using the conjuration or transfiguration that they were both famous for. At least, for now.

A wizard who was scrambling to escape was pulled off his feet and set on fire in a rush of magic. Another was ripped straight down the center by a stray bolt of lightning. Grindelwald swept his wand and the ground roared. The twisted rock rose into a pack of giant stone lions that bounded towards his opponent.

Dumbledore reduced them to powder, and the cloud of dust that had been swept up into the air as the confrontation continued gathered into a body, a great eagle of stone and dust which gave a cry so loud Harry nearly covered his ears. The bird rushed towards Grindelwald and was caught in a funnel of fire so hot and tight, the bird was reduced to a glassy slag.

While the glass was still glowing and molten, it flowed together into a wingless dragon of liquid sand. It breathed a torrent of glass shards at Dumbledore. The landscape was torn into by the sheer volume of silicates, and Harry heard screaming again, but this time he couldn't tear his eyes from the spectacle before him. The beast gathered itself and pounced at Dumbledore-

Harry was pulled up.

"What?!" He snapped. He met Daphne's eyes. He saw what might have been fear in her eyes and took a moment to breathe. Only when the second-hand adrenaline left his system did he risk speaking.

"What is it?' He asked, slower and more polite.

"You weren't at dinner," she said. "Again." She paced over to the other side of the dais from him confidently, like he hadn't just scared her.

"I was busy," he replied, keeping the irritation out of his tone.

 _I still am_.

"Playing with your new toy?" She indicated the dais. She had finished the secret passageway, electing to not use blood magic. Instead, she used her talents with reading the emotions of the world around her to coax the castle into creating a passage to the first floor. It led to a knight's armor you had to say 'Scarhead' to, to receive access.

She thought the password at his expense was hilarious.

She had taken quickly to trying to tie her psychometric talents to enchanting. If she could do it well and blend the two together, then she could probably enchant things beyond even Dumbledore one day. For all of Dumbledore's talents, he would never be able to weave emotion into his magic the way Daphne might one day be able to; he would never fill an object with joy or wrath or fear the way that she could. It was a decided perk of her talent, if she took the time to practice.

"Dumbledore, _discretely_ , gave me the memory of his duel," Harry said. He knew Dumbledore wanted it under wraps, but Harry trusted Daphne more than just about anybody else.

"Really? _His_ duel?" Daphne looked at once more interested. "He's never given the memory before, to my knowledge. I know he's been offered hundreds of thousands of galleons for it, but he always refused. People just use the memories of others who were there but…"

"I can't imagine many survived," Harry finished for her. "He wanted me to keep it secret so…"

"Got it." She made a gesture of sealing her pink lips. "Was it interesting?" She teased him.

"More than slightly." He said, letting some annoyance fall into his voice from behind his occlumency.

"Well you already promised me that we'd practice occlumency," She reminded pointedly.

 _So I did._

"Do you want to get started?"

She nodded and flicked her ponytail out behind her, from where it had fallen over her shoulder. He stared at her.

"What?" She asked.

"I expected you to say no. You haven't wanted to for weeks."

"Well, it's time to practice," she snipped.

"Alright," he said after a moment of bemusement. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, and he watched an unnatural calm come over her as she settled her thoughts.

He reached out and touched her mind as gently as he could. She didn't react whatsoever.

Harry floated across her brain. He wasn't getting any strong impressions. She was locked down tight. He slipped a little deeper, following some flash of confusion. He watched the memory of pushing around ice cream in Diagon Alley across from himself.

He touched the flustered emotions she felt at the time. trying to decode them. She was just as confused about them as he was now.

"Do you feel me?" He asked her.

She shook her head.

"I'll make it more obvious." He grabbed a thread and pulled.

 _[Astoria was sitting across from Harry in what Harry instinctively knew was the Slytherin Common room._

 _"I don't see it." Astoria was shaking her head._

 _"Harry's a talented wizard." Daphne defended._

 _"Didn't he collapse on the train?" Astoria gave a giggle. "I heard Malfoy beat him in the corridors today, too." She said Malfoy's name with an almost dreamy voice and Harry felt Daphne's nose wrinkle in disgust._

 _"I hadn't heard that."_

 _"Of course you didn't." Astoria laughed. "Everyone knows he's your boyfriend."_

 _Daphne didn't rise to the bait. "Was anyone else there?"_

 _Astoria opened her mouth._

 _"Besides Malfoy's thugs," Daphne clarified, and Astoria paused in thought._

 _"Turpey?" She said, guessing as much as informing. "The girl whose mom did that thing at the ministry."_

 _Daphne frowned._

 _"Anyway," Astoria continued. "Potter hasn't exactly been the prodigy you described. I wonder if you just lied to your little sister, hmm?"]_

The memory slipped away, and Harry felt Daphne's mind buck at the intrusion. She cried out in front of his eyes and he pulled the memory back gently. He could have been much more aggressive and made it hurt a great deal more, but he was trying to teach her, not rip her mind wide open like Lovegood's.

He pulled the memory back.

 _["Harry took Malfoy apart first year, several times. Something must be wrong." Daphne countered. She reached into her bag and pulled out her mirror._

 _"Harry?" She whispered to the mirror._

 _He already knew that he wouldn't respond._

 _"Is his famous mirror broken?" Astoria pressed._

 _"Harry's things don't break."_

 _"Mmmhmm, whatever you say Daph."]_

Daphne mind resisted him, trying to worm its way free of his fingers, but he coaxed her gently and she sighed out loud, almost leaning into him.

 _["You'll see what a poor prospect Malfoy is, eventually." Daphne told her sister, slightly harsher than she had intended.]_

"W-wh-" Daphne was stuttering. She was trying to resist, but lacked the will to actually throw him off. Harry withdrew immediately, sensing her panic go beyond mere discomfort at having her private moments revealed to him.

Her mind had been conflicted between trying to resist him and leaning into the soft relaxing feelings he had pushed into her.

He just waited for her to gather herself again.

She cleared her throat and looked at him oddly.

"It's hard to fight," She confessed.

He nodded. "But you did better."

"Thank you…" She said softly without looking at him. She bit her lip gently and rubbed her arm absentmindedly. "It's… hard to fight." She paused again. "When you make it feel nice."

"That's kind of the idea," he said. "Anyone can fight against something causing them pain."

"Astoria didn't mean what she said," Daphne defended instinctively.

"Yes, she did," Harry pointed out, and Daphne winced. _She_ knew it was true, so he knew it was true too.

"You're not mad? About what she said."

Harry frowned, feeling confused. "No. Why?"

He saw some relief in her eyes, but he wasn't sure why she would be relieved. Was she worried he would judge her for her sister?

"Sorry I didn't answer the mirror, that day," he diverted instead. "I was a little out of it."

She waved him off. "It's fine." Her voice was quiet, but meaningful.

He saw the strange conflicted emotion in her eyes.

"Harry, this is going to sound odd…" He looked at her. She seemed very conflicted and anxious. It was out of her nature; well, kind of. She was normally the picture of confidence.

Hermione paced in with Tracey. "Oh, there you ar-oh!" Hermione turned red at seeing the two of them standing close together.

"Are we interrupting something." Tracey looked almost hopeful.

[Were they snogging? Oh please let them have been snogging.]

"No, its fine," Daphne said.

Harry shrugged, unbothered, which made Tracey sigh.

"What's going on?"

"They posted class standings based on the last two years," Hermione said slowly, as though making sure it was okay to talk. "That way we could get an idea of who was going to Beauxbatons."

Harry nodded. "So, you, Daphne, me, and who else?"

"Ernie McMillan and Su Li." She said.

Harry frowned and looked to Tracey. "I'm only really okay with potions," she explained lightly. "Ernie and Su both do fairly well all around."

Harry nodded, rubbing his jaw. "Neville has the same problem. He could do it if he really buckled down."

"I'm not sure I'm going to accept…" Hermione said, stunning Harry. "Well, it would uproot my education. We only have two years until our OWLs. Can I really afford to miss so much studying?"

"You're right. If only you had more time," Harry said with a knowing smirk

She huffed and glared at him while Tracey gave them both an odd look.

"In all seriousness, I can't believe you're turning down a once in a lifetime educational opportunity," Daphne said. "I suppose travel really _isn't_ for everyone."

Hermione made a face and Tracey giggled.

"Break it up or take it to the dueling chamber," Harry said.

"That's not a bad idea." Hermione eyed Daphne.

"Think you can take me, Granger?"

"Oh, I think I could give you a run for your money."

"Just kiss already." Tracey giggled.

They both turned and glared at her, wearing matching blushes.

 _Nicely defused._ _Tracey might even be better than that than I am. Which is impressive, considering I can read minds._

"I take it back. I'd rather shoot spells at _you_ ," Hermione told Tracey.

"I don't know-"

Harry turned around and put his head back into the pensieve like an ostrich escaping into sand.

Grindelwald's dragon bore down on Dumbledore, but it was quickly shattered. The twisted glass spikes rose from the ground to pierce Grindelwald's flesh, but they shattered in a storm of wind, only to be faced by a continuous flow of fire from Dumbledore's wand.

Harry was pulled back again.

He almost groaned as he was turned to face Hermione, Tracey, and Daphne.

"I've literally been waiting years for this." He gestured at the memory.

Hermione got on her toes to eye the fluid curiously.

"Harry, we need you to officiate a duel." Daphne said.

"Yeah, how about no?"

"What? Why not?" Hermione asked, sinking back down onto her feet.

"You two are already metaphorically at each other's throats. I'm not facilitating you two _literally_ getting at each other's throats."

There was a long beat of silence.

"Yeah, that seems fair," Daphne said reluctantly.

"It would certainly make things more difficult," Hermione agreed.

"See, no need to fight."

"You know I would have won though, right?" Daphne said, smirking.

Hermione glowered. "You should keep dreaming."

Eventually all the commotion died down in the room until only Harry and Daphne lingered.

"You know you could take a rest for tonight," Daphne said nervously. "No one would blame you."

Harry shook his head. "Will you help me?"

"You know that I will," She grumbled.

It had become a bit of a routine for them. She would stand by and let the Boggart attack him and he would try to resist. They been doing it since they hugged in the room after the second attack.

"Thank you," he told her, and he meant it.

She pulled the Boggart free from its hiding place and with a swing of her wand opened the wardrobe.

Harry felt the attack on his mind and felt the dread fill him. He pulled his mind shut as best as he could against the screams.

He wasn't sure when it was over, or even how much time had passed. Lucidity was a rare commodity after these sessions. But, after a time, Daphne would shut the creature away and he would sit on the floor, trying to pull himself back together.

Daphne hated it every time, but he needed it.

He felt her rub his back as he rose shakily to his feet. "How long are you going to do this to yourself, Harry? You can't keep this up forever and I won't keep helping you torture yourself. Not when there's no end in sight."

"You promised that you would help me," Harry reminded tiredly.

"This isn't help!"

"It is."

"Just tell me you have a plan, that you have a goal. How will you know when you're done?"

She gave him a long look, filled with confusing emotions.

"Until it's not a Dementor anymore."

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Christmas approached rapidly and Neville and Harry were getting published in Herbology Quarterly.

 _Using Switching Spells to Facilitate Heterosis,_ _by Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter._

Neville frowned at it.

"Your name should be first," Neville said. "It was your idea, your plan. You did the magic."

Harry touched his friend's mind, encouraging a blossom of ego.

"You grew the plants and made it happen, Neville. You deserve this." Harry gave him a grin. "Come on. Did you see the look on Madam Sprout's face when she walked in holding this?" He gestured at the paper.

Neville handed the first edition towards Harry for him to take.

Harry shook his head.

"Give it to your Grandmother," Harry said. His friend was heading home for the Holidays. They all were, except for Hermione, who Harry was certain was going to make the most of her access to him to help her invent spells. Harry was going to be otherwise alone here for Christmas and, if he played his hand right, he could finally devote some real time to breaking down Dumbledore's duel, practicing his patronus, and imitating the Dementor's effects.

He waved goodbye to Neville and watched Daphne and her sister leave the castle together. He never found out what she wanted to ask him, and she had become confusing again.

Harry adjourned to his room to practice.

The rest of the famous duel was short. Incredibly so. It was a common misconception that the duel lasted for hours on end. Both wizards were throwing around more magic in a moment than Harry had in his entire life; the power required for Dumbledore to pulverize Grindelwald's stone lions alone must have been stunning. Perhaps as much energy was used by Dumbledore to destroy them as Grindelwald had consumed in summoning them.

Dumbledore had set a pack of flaming wolves on Grindelwald and Grindelwald had countered with a storm, a torrential downpour that sent the lightning crashing from the sky. The razor sharp winds fell upon Dumbledore with all the ferocity of the man's summoned hounds.

Dumbledore ripped the sky into a whirlwind which tore the ground apart and pulled wizards off their feet. He focused the wind into a ravaging torrent upon his foe, and was nearly torn in half when the ground was rent open and tried to swallow him in the teeth of a massive turtle-like creature that crawled out.

Dumbledore dealt with the turtle ripping chunks away and melting it, even as Grindelwald banished the storm.

They banished, conjured, and transfigured so quickly that when Dumbledore finally struck Grindelwald down with a wave of fire, scorching the handsome wizard's upper body, Dumbledore nearly collapsed after.

But Harry learned a great deal about dueling tactics, chaining spells together and conjuring shields. If he could imitate the Dementor's effects, then he could combine it with several other pieces into a wonderful symphony of defensive magic.

Harry concentrated. He breathed and focused on the memory of leaving the Dursleys, leaving them forever and falling asleep in the Leaky Cauldron. He let the feeling fill him and drunk it in from himself the say way he did for the emotions of others.

He cast.

" _Expecto Patronum._ "

Grey, wispy mist, similar to that of memories, fell from his wand. It congealed into a swirling pattern. A shield. He had finally done it, and he couldn't help grinning earnestly.

He could finally tell Dumbledore to write the note…

Although…

He turned his eyes to the hidden boggart.

He pulled it out of hiding and sat it in the center of the room.

He flicked his wand and it opened with a creak.

The screaming pounded upon his mind immediately, and the creature lunged forward with legilimency. It didn't touch him. It couldn't reach him. His mind was aloft, and he smiled.

 _Finally._

He felt the cold and watched as gloomy hands extended. A ragged breath rattled free from inside and Harry felt his defenses waver and knew it was inside him.

But it wasn't able to bring him down.

He cast easily.

" _Expecto Patronum._ "

He drove it back inside the cabinet with a laugh, feeling a rush like he had just pulled off a magnificent trick on his broom. He turned to look outside the window at the monsters which hung over the black lake.

 _You're next._

That night he broke out of the castle. He felt the chill of the Dementors, but it was lessened somehow. _They_ couldn't reach him either, the long result of hours of occlumency, dozens of hours of having his mind raked and torn by the Boggart, and of study of the Mind Arts finally coming to fruition. He understood now.

He had been so dependent on the emotions of others for stability that when the Dementors attacked he instinctively reached out to others and drew more of the Dementors' magic into him.

His own lack of precious memories, as Dumbledore had called it, meant that he had been woefully unprepared for them.

Madam Pomfrey had been right when she called him fragile. He had been. His mind had been easily plucked and dissected by the creatures.

They had shaken his faith in himself, even as he attempted to keep them out. His magic, reaching and reacting to protect him in vain, had worn itself out. Like a strained muscle.

And perhaps… perhaps because he was so like them, that his magic had hurt him as much as it protected.

It didn't matter now. They couldn't hurt him anymore.

A Dementor came close, lingering in the air above Harry. It came closer and closer, but it never touched him with its magic. Its abilities flailed in futility around him and he laughed out loud.

 _It's time to practice._

He raised his wand.

 _I'm going to rip you apart._

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Harry was summoned by the Headmaster the next day and he ascended to the Headmaster's office with a grin.

"Ah Harry, having a good holiday?" Harry nodded eagerly and took the proffered seat.

"I can cast the patronus charm," he told his mentor. "Just a shield, but it's enough."

"Truly?" Dumbledore looked surprised and interested. "You believe that the Dementor's will no longer pose a threat to you?"

Harry frowned, before shaking his head. "Except in large enough numbers."

Dumbledore nodded. "I shall sign your pass then, and also offer my sincere congratulations." He smiled. "I have a great deal to congratulate you about, in fact. Your Herbology project came together nicely. I have yet to read it, though Madam Sprout was most ecstatic about her students' progress and Professor Flitwick passed along his pride regarding your ancient studies and magical theory projects. He was concerned about the use of blood magic, but I reassured him that you were being nothing but careful."

Dumbledore beamed at Harry and Harry couldn't help but return the grin.

"And your other research on Dementors?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I developed a spell based on them, but I didn't make any other progress." Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"Very well done, Harry, very well done indeed."

Harry smiled.

"Sir, I've been wondering about Tom Riddle."

Dumbledore leaned back and nodded. "I'd have been surprised if you weren't."

"Did you teach him, the way you're teaching me?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Tom Riddle displayed chronic cruelty to his fellow students. He cast dark magic spells on his classmates and he had obvious instincts towards domination. I kept a close eye on him here at school; though, perhaps not close enough."

"You made a mistake?" Harry observed.

"I did." Dumbledore nodded. "I resolved to not repeat it with you, Harry. Of course, it helps that you appreciate those who surround you, even if you have your enemies. Like Mr. Malfoy, who aligned himself against you and your friends quite early on, if I am to understand this perennial rumor mill of ours."

Harry gave the headmaster a nervous look.

"Harry, Voldemort was possessive, but never of people. He never valued the company of others the way you do, and his cruelty was never stayed or limited, not even from those most loyal to him. It is here where you are different. You have stood in admirable defense of your friends, for no other reason than that they are your friends. Tom could never have understood this. You are similar in many ways, yes. But, as I said before, it is in the ways you are different that matter most."

Dumbledore smiled gently.

"Were you similar to Grindelwald, the way I am to Voldemort?"

"Largely," The wizard answered, eyes tightening slightly. "We had many similarities, but also many differences. We were talented in the same spheres of magic, as you no doubt realize."

Harry had, in fact.

"We saw some similar philosophies, but our applications of them led us in different directions." Dumbledore smiled almost fondly.

"Did you know you could defeat him?" Harry pushed. He was desperate to know more about his contemporaries.

"No." Dumbledore leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I wasn't certain, but I could no longer wait. The war had dragged on for far too long, and it was becoming clear to me that I was the only one who could face him. I had to act, even if it wasn't easy."

Harry nodded in understanding, or at least, thinking that he did.

"Is that all, Harry? Do you still feel the chill of the Dementors?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm really not sure that it's from the Dementors, Sir."

Dumbledore nodded.

"A shorter discussion this week, then. Don't let me keep you, Harry."

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There was a box sitting in the room next to Harry, inside was the still moving remains of the Dementor he had torn to pieces.

It wasn't dead, because it couldn't be killed. In fact, it had never truly been alive. Dementors were amortal, and could starve if they ran out of magic to sustain them, but they couldn't be destroyed in any other way.

Harry hoped it was alive enough to suffer, though he wasn't sure that it could feel pain.

Its effect was still there though, the cold and misery, which was why a patronus was the only reasonable defense against the monsters.

Even if you ripped them apart, you weren't safe from their cruellest nature.

Harry sealed the box, locking away the creature's aura. He hid the container in the faux chimney he had designed to contain the fireplace.

He would succeed in imitating them, either with practice or with a ritual of some kind, but he was wary of exercising blood magic on himself. There were already powerful magical sacrifices in his blood.

He would need to use a revealing ritual on himself. It would inform him of the effects already in his blood which would allow him to decide which rituals he could safely perform.

It wasn't exact, but it would at least point him away from the absolutely wrong direction. He thought it best not to outright kill himself or accidentally ruin his life.

He could imagine it now. One of the greatest magical talents of the last fifty years, killing themself by accident.

He chuckled and shook his head.

The ritual… it might do another thing. It might let him know if the connection between himself and Voldemort was in his blood.

He searched his mind and felt nothing which could be Voldemort, nothing that indicated any of himself wasn't entirely his own.

That didn't, unfortunately, mean that it wasn't there. He could just be used to it; so used to it, that he would never, or _could_ never, notice its presence. If it _was_ there, then he'd had it since he was a year old.

There was no conscious time in his life where this connection hadn't existed. But… he was fairly sure that Voldemort wasn't in his head. The first reason for this was that he had felt Voldemort in his mind before. Here, at Hogwarts.

The second reason was that this wouldn't allow him to speak to snakes. That particular magic dwelled in other spheres.

This meant that is was either his blood or his soul, or perhaps both.

Dumbledore likely knew this. This was probably why Dumbledore had asked Harry to be cautious about such magics, and Harry by and large agreed.

"Harry?" He looked up.

"Hermione," he greeted. Her cat was on her heels and waltzed in behind her like he owned the room.

 _No, this is my room._

He thought aggressively in its direction.

Next to Harry on the table was _Lebendig, eine kategorische Studie_ or _Alive, A Categorical Study_ – the German book Dumbledore had given him – his notes, and Trevor the Toad.

The kneazle walked beneath Trevor and gave a feline chattering noise at the toad.

"Your cat isn't going to eat Neville's toad is it?' Harry asked as she walked in to plop a book down on the table. "I don't need a battle of familiars in here."

She scowled at him. "Crookshanks is perfectly well behaved."

He watched it pace beneath the toad with its eyes wide and targeting.

He shrugged. "Alright."

Trevor could take care of itself, maddening thing that it was.

"Have you thought anymore about coming to Beauxbatons?"

"Only a little, but I don't want to show up not knowing any French, and I don't want to neglect my studies here either."

He snorted. "Have you started learning French?"

"I know a little already, but I haven't been practicing," she confessed. "Not like you have." She reached for his book and he let her take a look at it. She didn't know any German beyond 'Ich bin ein Berliner', so he wasn't worried.

"This isn't French."

He shook his head. "It's German. Dumbledore loaned it to me."

"You know it's really unfair that you get help from him."

He furrowed his brow. "Yeah, probably." He grinned. "He is my guardian, though. Maybe if you were an orphan you could get advice from the Headmaster too."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

She set her time-turner down on the table and Harry's demeanor fell away. He eyed the object with undisguised interest.

"What?" She asked. "You already knew that I had one."

"I did," he said, looking at the golden sand from the Department of Mysteries.

"Did Dumbledore tell you?" Hermione asked.

"No, you were really obvious about it Hermione, at least to me. Teleporting around all willy-nilly and going to more than one class at the same time."

"Does Daphne know too, then?"

"Maybe?" He said.

"You didn't tell her?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Well, you two are pretty close."

He shrugged.

"Oh… I guess I just thought that… well- it doesn't matter."

[Are they not dating?]

He recoiled from the odd thought in Hermione's head. He shook his own slightly.

"It's not like we're dating or something crazy," he told her.

"You're not?" He frowned and shook his head at the question.

"No more than you and I are."

She nodded slowly.

"I was wondering, Harry, about divination." He gave her his attention. "And magical talents" He nodded for her to continue. "Well where do they come from?"

"They're usually random, for the most part," he explained from what he knew. "Some families have more common occurrences. The Black family often bragged about have many Metamorphmagi. Their family boasted a Metamorphmagus rate far above the usual frequency in the general population."

"Is it only for Purebloods?"

Ah.

"No, not really. Anyone could be born a shapeshifter, a pyrokinetic or an empath. Some families seem to inherit it but most 'pureblood' families lack any such talents."

She nodded.

"Is it possible to acquire them?"

"Not really." He paused to stroke his jaw. "For the most part, you're either born with it, or you aren't. Though, sometimes the talent _can_ awaken later in life." He paused. "Many are at least imitable. Pyrokinesis can be very closely matched by sufficient practice with wandless magic, and many divination techniques can be effectively used by anyone."

"It's just… I know that being a muggleborn doesn't matter, but with things like that…"

"You're worried you can't compete?" He shook his head. "Hermione, Dumbledore and Grindelwald don't have any of these talents and neither do I."

"You have parseltongue, though."

"You're right, I learn _so_ much from snakes," he said facetiously. "I use it all the time."

"You're also good at wandless magic, though."

"I'm alright." She gave him a bizarre look. "Alright, I'm a bit of a freak of nature, Hermione. But there are so few people who have these talents that you shouldn't worry about it. Besides, you have your own talents, like your memory, that they can't match either. Which is more useful, being smart, or being alright at setting things on fire without a wand?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

"Of course you wouldn't." She sighed. "You're the next Merlin, already getting published."

"Neville and me," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you and Neville. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"You could always not try and compete with me," he suggested. "You're talented enough that Dumbledore or somebody convinced the ministry to give you that." He pointed at the time-turner.

"I suppose…"

 _Wait a minute_.

He plucked her brain.

"Did you ask the sorting hat to put you in Gryffindor just because Dumbledore was in that house?"

She glared at him.

"There's nothing wrong with taking Dumbledore's example."

"No, there's not," he said slowly. This was probably a sensitive topic for her.

"What?"

"Dumbledore isn't perfect, he makes mistakes all the times. He's inspiring, but he's just a wizard."

"Dumbledore is a great wizard! The greatest in the world!"

He nodded. "Certainly the most powerful, though Flamel also has a case for that particular title."

She frowned. "I thought you liked Dumbledore."

"I do. I also trust him absolutely and I love him like a grandfather. But he also makes mistakes, and it's important to recognize that we have different talents."

"Like what? What mistakes?"

"Voldemort," he answered without hesitation. "He confessed to me that he knew something was wrong with the student who would become Voldemort and that he never stopped him."

She frowned. "How could he have known?"

Harry shrugged. "He didn't know, not for certain. He also procrastinated too long before confronting Grindelwald. He told me he probably could have done something sooner."

"Well Grindelwald was a dangerous wizard and he had his duties here." Hermione didn't look impressed.

She didn't get it. "All three of us, he messed up with all of us!"

"All three of you?"

" _Me,_ " he said. "Hermione. He messed up with me, Grindelwald, and Voldemort. Who knows what else? Dumbledore is personally responsible for no small part of all the horrible events of the last century."

"What did he do to you?"

He winced. "That's… look here. Do you know what this book is?"

She looked at him for a moment before her gaze shifted to the book.

"It's about experiments done with the killing curse."

"That's horrible Harry!" She looked panicked. "You shoul-"

"Dumbledore gave it to me when I asked him questions about soul magic." Harry informed her. He let that sink in.

"Dumbledore let you read this?" She reached out and looked at it, suddenly much more trusting.

"He said that he wanted to perform some experiments in his youth, but he came across this book," he nodded at it, "by Harfang Munter, instead. I was considering some of these experiments when I talked to Dumbledore about it."

She looked at it, still afraid.

"What sorts of experiments?"

"Experiments on animals and their souls."

[Dark Magic!]

"Harry how could you, Dumbledore would neve-"

"He did. He's not what you think he is." He sighed and shook his head. He could practically taste her doubt and anger. "Have you ever even had a conversation with the Headmaster, Hermione? Look, here's another book I've been reading and talking to him about, the _Fifth Element of Witchcraft_." Harry withdrew the book from his bag. "It's blood magic."

"You're saying he's evil, Harry." She looked aghast. "I can't believe this."

"I'm saying he's _complicated_ ," he corrected.

[What does he mean? He says he loves Dumbledore, but that Dumbledore is also a horrible person with the same breath.]

"I'm saying that _you're_ not like him, and that if you constantly try to be, you'll never reach your full potential."

"I'm not sure I can be around this." She pushed the soul magic book away from her.

"That's what I'm saying," he continued. "You aren't like us."

But he knew that she didn't understand.

"You think you're like Dumbledore?"

"I _know_ I am," he affirmed adamantly. "I will succeed him."

"How do you know that?" She looked astonished. "Harry, he's the greatest wizard of all time."

[He can't be serious.]

"I'm powerful and talented and, unlike him, I have a powerful and talented mentor," Harry explained. "By standing on his shoulders, I can see further than him and reach higher. He's not a God."

"You know I was going to ask you to help me with a spell, but I think that I'll just work on it on my own until you come to your senses, Harry. You've been acting so strange all year. I don't know why you're being like this."

"I've always been like this."

He shook his head as she walked out with her cat. She took their friendship with them as she walked out.

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She didn't understand. This time he wasn't sure that she ever would.

After Hermione left, Harry was certain their friendship must be over. She couldn't forgive what she saw as an attack on her idol, or his fascination with what she considered dark magic.

 _Though, she isn't entirely wrong._

Harry laid out his materials. He might as well perform the ritual now to see if he could replicate the Dementor's power for himself.

He copied directly from _The Fifth Element of Witchcraft_ and created a pane of runes to channel his intent. He went through the book five times to make sure he had the proper runes and had made no mistakes, before he stepped closer and slit his forearm.

 _This is going to hurt._

Aside from the blood it took to start the ritual, pain and agony were the things he sacrificed for the knowledge of his blood.

He expected to find some bond between himself and Voldemort. He found nothing of the sort.

The ritual was costly enough that he passed out, and when he woke up the next day he was starving. He cleaned up the bloody mess he had made before grabbing a quick breakfast and hurrying back to the room to find out the results.

Harry watched the Dementors he had conquered from the window of his study. He felt furious. How could he? How could Dumbledore do this?

 _Maybe Dumbledore didn't know._

Harry had been studying magic for three years, if he could piece it together, Dumbledore could too. There was no way he hadn't.

The man had practically told Harry the truth. Harry felt his trust in the old wizard waver. Why had the wizard lied to him? There must be a reason why. What was it about the soul that Dumbledore didn't want Harry to know? That question was the key to solving this problem.

It just came back to that same question in the end. Why?

The room shook slightly. Harry smelled ozone and could feel voltage across his tongue. He could hear the wind in his lungs and the cold in his chest. A winter storm brewed in his core and sparks of lightning flew from one of his fingertips to the next.

Harry turned towards the table reaching deep within himself. He felt the effect he had long studied in an attempt to imitate the Boggart and Dementors flare to life. If someone had been in the room with him, they would have felt terrifying and soul crushing despair. They would have felt the cold that he felt. He touched the center of himself, where he had long felt the freezing burn, and drew it out. It was frigid, and empty, and it howled.

He felt the decay effect he had Arithmantically devised and based his degeneration curse on join the other two effects. The table began to wither. The enchantments losing hold as they unravelled at some fundamental level.

Harry calmed himself immediately when he saw the damage. His hours of practice with the Boggart and performing occlumency exercises steeled him and he felt temperance grow. Such loss of control was inappropriate. He had to remain tempered.

The magical effects collapsed back to him with a snap and he felt bone deep exhaustion.

He shook his head and felt shame for the outburst. This anger might well be unwarranted. Maybe Dumbledore hadn't lied, maybe Dumbledore didn't know, or maybe Dumbledore wanted Harry to find out for himself. Harry wasn't sure, but he knew that he felt betrayed.

That was ridiculous though, Dumbledore wouldn't hurt him.

 _Dursley._

Something cold and harsh deep inside him whispered the name, and Harry had to almost physically shake off his instinctual shudder. He would talk to Dumbledore about this during their next meeting. Although...

There was one way he could find out for certain. He needed to have a 'chat' with Luna Lovegood.

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" _Floods are 'acts of God,' but flood losses are acts of man" - Oscar Wilde_

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 **Next, 'the Hermit'**

 _I publicly answer questions at my forum for this story._

 **WG**


	11. The Moon

**Beta: Digitize27**

 **If you asked a question in a review, I may have responded to it at my forum.**

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" _All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind." - Khalil Gibran_

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With Hermione avoiding him, Harry had all the time he could ask for to play with the Dementor corpse, even if he was a little distracted.

He needed to find out what a connection between souls meant and where they came from, and that meant trips to the library.

He didn't know what a soul was, even still, so how could he hope to understand how a connection between souls might work and, perhaps most importantly, why Dumbledore would keep it from him?

Harry breathed to calm himself, refusing to allow the amperage to flow across his teeth in his anger. He bottlenecked the cold in his throat and turned his attention to the corpse in the box.

A radius was fitting itself back into an ulna, so Harry reduced them apart. Ribs were cementing themselves to a sternum and a spine, so Harry tore it back to pieces. He would have to watch that. Make sure that the body didn't put itself back together and set itself on some poor student.

That would be a disaster.

He could imagine trying to explain that away.

 _Oh yeah, I'm basically like a Dementor, so I ripped one apart and was keeping it in the school to study, you know? Regular third year student things, honestly._

No, he was pretty certain that explanation wouldn't fly. So, he checked on the creature every day and reduced it more and more each time.

He pulled out his book on the God-Kings of India and noted his own success in imitating them, before moving on to his blood magic work.

It didn't ease his distraction. He kept coming back to questions about the soul. He poured into _Lebendie, eine kategorishe Studie_ to try and find an answer but, whether the subject was too abstract, or he didn't understand the German well enough, he could find no answers.

He did find a single reference to soul-based connection to an object called a 'phylakterie', but he struggled to make heads nor tails of it.

The tome was dense and in a foreign language, he felt he deserved some slack.

He stood with a sigh after several hours of studying German-to-English dictionaries and set the work aside, resigned – for now at least – to his own ignorance.

He checked his watch. He could still probably practice his patronus for a few more hours before the castle began to wake up and he could hunt down Luna Lovegood.

The thought of the girl made him frown.

He hadn't kept his promise to help her, had he? And here he was, preparing to abuse her gifts again.

Why did he recoil from it like this?

He waited for the sun to rise and reach about midday so the Christmas feast would be in full swing. If Luna Lovegood was in the castle she would be there. At least, that was probably a good bet.

He made his way down to the Great Hall, past innumerable sparks of light. Closer inspection revealed them to be fairies trapped in glass bulbs.

 _Is...is that cruelty?_

Harry wasn't sure.

But with the tinsel lining the corridors and wonderful wreaths on every door they certainly fit in with the decorum, so Harry pushed past his concerns regarding the small winged humanoids.

The Great Hall was filled with twelve Christmas Trees, all glittering with golden stars and sliding silver lace which, coiled by magic, ran up and down their lengths. He smelled the powerful odor of turkey and gravy as he walked in. There was a single table, set for perhaps a dozen people. Hermione was already there, eating alone while stroking Crookshanks. When he stepped in she looked up and met his eyes.

[Doesn't he understand who Dumbledore is? He-]

Harry broke the connection. He didn't need to hear her tired old rhetoric again.

 _Dumbledore._

This would be his first time seeing the man after what he learned. Did the wizard wish to keep Harry in the dark? What lengths would he go to do it? Would he be disappointed that Harry learned he and Voldemort shared a connection on their deepest levels?

Dumbledore's eyes conveyed the man's smile better than his mouth could, twinkling merrily like all the other festive ornaments. Harry met them as he normally would.

He took a seat at the table and spotted two nervous looking first-years. They looked up at him curiously and somewhat afraid. He read them and saw rumors about himself; that he cursed students who got in his way, and that he was favored by Dumbledore. That he was a powerful and dangerous wizard.

It amused him that, for once, all of those were completely correct.

He had no illusions about how long he would last in a duel against an adult wizard, let alone a trained one, but compared to his peers he was pretty much unmatched up to at least fifth year, probably higher.

On the other hand, assuming he couldn't be matched seemed like a bad idea.

At any rate, Luna wasn't here. He figured he may as well eat instead and get back to work.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore as Harry took his seat. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use the House tables... Sit down, sit down!"

"Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Professor Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witches hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Harry eyed the witches hat with recognition, it was a great deal like Neville's Grandmother's.

Professor Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed it back towards the eccentric wizard who immediately, and without apparent reservation, placed it on his head.

Harry dug into a pile of roast potatoes as the doors of the Great Hall opened again. Professor Trelawney strolled in with wide glasses that seemed to give her the appearance of an insect. This was Harry's first look at the Divination Professor, so he eyed her up carefully.

Were those runes on her exceedingly large earrings, or just decorative markings? Was she a talented seer who gazed beyond realty and to the outer reaches of time? Was she dangerous? Could she through him into his deepest intents? Could he keep his secrets from her?

"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," she said in a faraway voice that, at least in part, reminded him of Luna's. "And to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly, certainly," Dumbledore's eyes were filled only with good humor. "Let me draw you up a chair -"

And he did indeed draw a chair in mid-air with his wand, which revolved for a few seconds before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall. Harry eyed the conjuration with great interest.

A conjuration was technically any transfiguration that went from air, into a solid or liquid substance. They were taxing, magically, speaking. Dumbledore actually proved why when he was a student here. It takes a great deal of energy to pull something from nothing and to compress air enough to make it solid. Air is the most free of all elements, so naturally it resists conformity more than any other.

Harry had yet to perform a conjuration on anything more complicated and more massive than a quill. The concentration and technique involved put the subject in NEWTs range which he still had yet to cross in most subjects.

He watched the sorcerer carefully at the casual display of magical might.

He felt a pang of… anxiety?

Was he afraid of Dumbledore? When had that happened? What had changed?

No, he wasn't afraid, just… nervous, perhaps? He struggled to pin down the name of the emotion and, in the end, simply set it aside.

Professor Trelawney did not sit down. Her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.

 _What does she see?_

Had magic torn her head open and filled it with a vision, the way it often did to poor Luna?

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

Perhaps not.

"We'll risk it, Sibyll," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Harry though he could detect some professional animosity there; but from Professor McGonagall? Surely not.

Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the table at any second. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.

"Tripe, Sibyll?"

 _Well played Professor McGonagall._

Harry chuckled lightly at the pun.

Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more and said, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, indicating that everybody should start serving themselves. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

Ah, Lycanthropy _was_ technically a sickness, Harry supposed.

"But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?" Professor McGonagall stabbed, eyebrows raised mockingly.

Professor Trelawney provided her colleague with a frosty glance. "Certainly I knew, Minerva," she asserted stiffly. "But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," Professor McGonagall did not relent.

Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty. "If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him-"

"Imagine that," commented Professor McGonagall dryly, already turning back to her food.

"I doubt," said Dumbledore, in a still cheerful but slightly raised voice (Did Harry detect a hint of irritation?) which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's barbs, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

Harry's eyes snapped over to the potions master.

 _Wolfsbane?!_

It was incredibly difficult to brew. Harry leaned forward with interest and cocked his head curiously at the Potions professor.

Snape nodded. "Of course, Headmaster." He turned to catch Harry's interested gaze. "Curious, Mr. Potter?" The greasy man resisted sneering; Harry chalked it up to a small Christmas miracle.

He nodded honestly, reciprocating the small – and likely reluctant – gesture of goodwill. "Nothing that can't wait."

"Another project?" Madam Sprout cut in. All the attention was suddenly on Harry. "You know I was certainly impressed with your last publication. I never would have thought of it myself. How ever did you come up with it?"

"I didn't, not really," Harry answered first, before looking away from Snape towards the Herbology teacher. "Muggles do it all the time, crossbreeding their plants to improve their crop. I just asked myself why we couldn't do the same."

"Marvelous, of course," Professor Flitwick pushed in. "Simply marvelous, though I must admit to a bit of a personal bias and curiosity. I have heard from Professor McGonagall about a set of enchanted mirrors you designed. I must wonder if you are planning anything for my subject."

Harry saw Hermione clutch at her mirror out of the corner of his eye.

He shook his head. "Not since I finished the pensieve," he frowned and stroked his jaw. "Most of my charm work recently has been towards my patronus."

"You enchanted a pensieve?" It was Professor McGonagall and she sounded a little flabbergasted. "Does it work?"

"It hasn't broken yet, so… maybe?" Harry shrugged, thumbing his chin as he considered the question. "It could still fail, and it stutters occasionally."

"Did you say you could _cast_ a patronus charm?" Professor Flitwick cut back across, meeting Professor Sprout's gaze in some communication. "Or are you simply practicing it?"

"Both, I suppose." Harry answered. "I can't cast a corporeal one. Not yet."

Harry took a bite of potatoes.

"But, you can produce a shield?" Professor McGonagall asked. "That's well beyond OWL level."

Harry swallowed and nodded, meeting her astonished gaze.

"I did want to ask you, Professor," he began, directed towards the Transfiguration teacher. "About the nature of Animagus transformations."

She looked slightly taken aback. "Did you wish to know anything in particular?"

 _I want to know what happens to your soul, as you change._

"I wanted to know about how it changes your mind. Does it change your thoughts? Surely a cat doesn't think the same way a person does. Does it? Do the experiences blend together?"

"For me," she began, considering the question, "I have always been able to keep the cat separate from the person, although it is trying at times to keep the two instincts and memories distinct enough to recall a cohesive narrative. I could probably point you in the direction of a few books on the subject, if you are so inclined."

He nodded at once. "Please."

The conversation ebbed and flowed for nearly an hour before Harry stood to return to his studies. When he did so Professor Trelawney shrieked.

"My dear, don't you know? Whoever departs from a table for thirteen first shall meet a grisly end!"

Harry nearly jumped at the sound. He was starting to understand why Hermione hadn't liked divination so far. He was starting to think Trelawney wasn't much like Luna at all.

He thought about saying he wasn't superstitious, but he was a wizard. He was _totally_ superstitious.

"Do you know when?" He asked her honestly. "When I'm going to meet a 'grisly end?'"

"No…" She started. "But my dear-"

"I'll just take the chance that it isn't today, then," he returned, and summarily walked out.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry rose from the pensieve frowning. At one point, Grindelwald used a spell that caused a wave in the air, visible like heat over asphalt. It was one of several spells which were occurring within the famous duel which he had trouble identifying in both cause and effect.

"-n't touch Harry's things."

Harry heard the voice and smiled. He had been looking forward to Daphne's return to the castle. He had been, well… lonely, he supposed, without her around.

"What, this? He has a diary?" Astoria giggled from the entrance room. "Have you read it?"

"It's full of his ideas, and more importantly, _protected_ , Aster," Daphne defended.

"So, you haven't read his diary, or this other book." There was a pause. "And don't call me Aster!" The younger voice replied. "What is this?"

"Some of Harry's notes, you shouldn't touch them."

"Why? Because only you get to?" There was a giggle. "Is this Norwegian?" She then said something in another language that Harry didn't understand. " _Is it?_ " It sounded Scandinavian, but from context clues he could guess that it was Norwegian. "No, it looks like German," she rambled right along.

 _I forgot about their Scandinavian roots._

"I haven't seen that one before," Daphne remarked, decidedly less chiding now that her curiosity was piqued.

Harry walked back into entrance hall of the main room.

"Harry!" Daphne turned away from the table where he had laid out several books and notes on various subjects. On one end was his German studies and the book Dumbledore gave him, on another was his French work, in a corner was a pile of notes on Dementors, and at the far end was a collection on parchment filled with Arithmancy equations about temperature and weather.

She came up to him and hugged him, causing him to stiffen slightly before she released him.

"I... ah ... I brought Astoria to see the room. I told her about it over Christmas and she wanted to see it." Daphne bit her lip cutely and wrung her hands.

It took Harry a moment to realize that she was nervous because she was asking for permission – kind of. There was a pleading quality, and something apologetic in her tone.

Harry shrugged. "Alright."

She sent him something relieved and something... betrayed? Like she expected him to put up a fight and was disappointed that he didn't, but was also _glad_ that he hadn't.

 _Confusing._

Harry resolved to ignore it until it otherwise turned into a problem.

"You made all this?" Astoria asked.

"Kind of," he said. "Daphne helped."

"I really didn't," she huffed and crossed her arms glaring at him half-heartedly.

"Is it true that you get help from the Headmaster?" Astoria pushed on. "Is that why you got published?"

"Astoria!"

Harry shrugged, taking a seat and pushing paper aside until he found what he was looking for. A set of thermomantic arithmancy equations for reducing temperature in an area. He reached across the desk towards his Dementor's box and made sure that it was double sealed.

"Well!" Astoria crossed her arms and gave him an impatient glance, looking a great deal like her sister had a moment ago.

"He shrugged, Astoria," Daphne informed her sister with a tired sort of amusement.

"That's not a very good answer."

"I bring questions to him sometimes, and he points me in the right direction," Harry said to alleviate the pressure.

Astoria grinned. "I knew it. You're just getting special help."

"Aster!"

Harry shrugged again. "Yeah, kinda."

"Ugh." Daphne ran her hand across her face firmly and set the other on the table leaning onto it. "Don't encourage her, Harry, she'll-"

She pulled back and snapped her eyes towards him.

"What did you do to the table?" She asked.

Harry's eyes flicked between her hand and the table.

"You're getting stronger," he commented idly.

"What? He knows you're psychometric like Dad?"

"He knew before you did, now hush."

"What?!"

"Harry, what did you do to the table? Was that… lightning?" Daphne pressed him.

Harry held up a hand and let go of some capacitance, letting sparks fly from between his fingers. "A little."

"Ooh, sparkly."

Daphne ignored Astoria. "When did you become an electrokinetic?"

Harry shrugged again. "Weren't you going to give Astoria a tour?"

Daphne frowned, but nodded all the same.

"Hey, I want to know about this too," Astoria whined.

"Tough," Daphne shot back, grabbing her sister by the hand and dragging her towards the room with the pensieve.

"Wait, what about that box he has?"

"I'm sure it's very interesting. He'll tell me all about it later."

"What about me?"

"You'll probably be standing near Draco Malfoy, stuttering and blushing."

"Daphne!" Astoria whined.

Harry looked over his workspace and frowned. He waved his wand at the mess and parchment stacked itself, books aligning into neat piles by subject.

He really needed to visit Germany and France and spend some time in the heads of the people who spoke those languages. Working through and translating word for word was one thing, but actually being immersed in the language was quite another.

After a few more minutes Neville walked in, followed by Lisa.

"Hey Harry." Lisa plopped down across from him.

Harry nodded at them both. "Have a good Holiday?"

Lisa nodded, before frowning. "Well it was alright, we just…"

"You had to deal with the Ministry?"

She frowned at him. "What do you know about that?"

"Nothing," Harry said honestly. "I have a few guesses, but that's about it."

"And you don't want to know?"

"It's not my business."

"You're a strange wizard." She gave him an odd look.

 _If I had a knut…_

"Yeah, I've heard," He said with a nod. "Have you two made a decision about Beauxbatons yet?"

Lisa shook her head while Neville nodded almost tiredly. "I think I need to stay. I can't afford to miss the time here, not with my OWLs coming up." The teen looked down at a book on Harry's desk. "And I don't think I could learn French fast enough, either."

Harry nodded. He had figured as much.

"I still haven't decided, but I don't think I'll go either," Lisa added. "It'll just be me and Tracey, dragging Neville to Hogsmeade and out of the greenhouse next year."

Harry stood up. "Come on then, Neville."

"Wait what for?" Neville asked.

"We're going to practice some spells, since I don't trust Malfoy not to mess with you when I'm in France."

Neville shot a nervous glance at Lisa.

"Uh… well...um… I don't know if that's necessary," he replied after a moment.

"Maybe, maybe not." Harry motioned to the dueling chamber. "Let's practice."

Neville followed Harry to the other room, where they exchanged spells until Harry was satisfied.

Of course, even without his mind-magics and elemental abilities he could have trounced Neville. Harry had an elementary understanding of dueling techniques, had practiced dueling chains, had a wide variety of spells in his arsenal and could probably cast all of them more competently than Neville.

But he was trying to teach, which was why he sent only light stinging spells Neville's way instead of lightning, while Neville attempted to disarm him or hit him with the appropriate spell. Or any spell, really.

He never did hit Harry, but he could probably give Malfoy more of a run for his money.

Neville was sweating slightly in his position opposite Harry when Daphne cane back, leading her sister like a puppy.

"Are you dueling?" Astoria asked, the tour apparently doing little to quench her energy.

Harry shook his head, sparing a look at Neville's slouching form. "No, we're done."

He stepped back and Neville gratefully caught his breath as Tracey strolled in.

"You know, you guys could spend some time out in the castle," she informed them." The other students don't bite." She spotted Astoria. "Who shrunk Daphne?"

"Funny," Daphne said, swatting at her friend. "Did you have a good holiday? How was Paris? I got your letters by the way. You know you can just use the mirrors."

"You did? You got them?" Tracey beamed. "It was wonderful. It was all lit up because of Christmas and the city was gorgeous. Muggles may not have magic, but they really know how to be festive. Think, somebody actually had to cover the Eiffel Tower with lights by hand. Could you imagine? Like, that's your job. You and a hundred people have to hang lights for days to get the city into the Christmas spirit." Tracey breathed. "But it would have been better if you'd have come. It was kind of lonely with just me and my parents."

"Christmas is for family," Daphne reminded her.

"Right, right, whatever," Tracey muttered. "It's not like you couldn't have portkeyed or something…" Her face brightened instantly, moving over to poke Astoria's face. "What's up shrimp?"

"Hey I-"

"Has anyone seen Hermione? It's not like her to not be here. I thought I saw her in the library. Did you two make any spells over the break?" Tracey wasn't stopping.

"Yeah Harry, did you two make some magic?" Lisa snorted.

Harry scrunched his brow for a moment as Neville abruptly turned away. Harry caught his eye.

[ _"Neville I'm telling you, Harry is doing some serious dark magic. He's turning on Dumbledore."_

" _I-I'm not sure, Hermione. He's always read books from the restricted section. That doesn't make him evil, does it? At least, no more than before."_

 _Hermione harrumphed at him. "You don't understand. He was reading about soul magic! Blood magic! He said Dumbledore was responsible for You-Know-Who and Grindelwald!"_

" _W-w-well there is some historical debate about that, Hermione. My gran thinks he probably could have stopped Grindelwald sooner. Granddad died fighting Grindelwald's reapers, see? She still blames Dumbledore a little. Lots of people argue about that to this day."_

" _Neville you can't keep defen-"_ ]

Harry stepped back into himself.

"Have you heard something? Neville?" He asked his friend. The time he spent in Neville's thoughts was barely a heartbeat.

Neville rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "She said you were dangerous. That I shouldn't be around you."

 _Well I am dangerous._

Tracey cut in. "Wait, why? Did you two fight? Is she avoiding you?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Wait you probably fought, or she's probably avoiding you?" Lisa asked looking confused.

"We had an argument," Harry clarified.

"And?" Tracey pressed.

Harry shrugged.

"You're the worst." Tracey sighed. "What did you fight about?"

"Dumbledore," Harry said. "She idolizes him to godhood. She can't see the mistakes he's made."

"I don't get it." Astoria was looking at him, clearly confused.

"Shush." Daphne waved her sister off. "Is she coming back?"

"Maybe?" He shrugged uncertainly; he wasn't Luna.

Daphne looked elated, but tempered herself with occlumency almost fast enough that Harry didn't see. Almost.

"You're not going to go talk to her?" Lisa asked.

"Maybe." Harry considered stroking his chin. "Should I?"

"Hermione is…" Neville began "…Hermione." He looked as though he had wanted to say more, but struggled to figure out what.

"So, should I go talk to her or not?" Harry pressed.

"She seems pretty set that you're a bad influence," Neville said carefully. "She was thinking about going to Professor McGonagall about it."

Harry made a face. He didn't need to deal with that.

"I'm not sure about it," Harry decided. "I'll wait and see how it plays out."

Tracey seemed content with that. The latest piece of gossip, and it was all hers.

"I have something for you," Harry told her as he handed her the slip Dumbledore had signed.

"You can go to Hogsmeade now? That's so wonderful! We can finally go the three broomsticks and get sweets at-"

"I thought he wasn't going to sign it until you could cast a patronus." Daphne peered at the slip over Tracey's shoulder. "You can cast one? What's it look like?"

Instead of being upset at the interruption, Tracey joined her in staring at him curiously.

"It's not corporeal," Harry told them. "But it's a shield."

"So you don't know the form?" Daphne asked.

"Form?" Tracey asked.

"A corporeal patronus takes the shape of a symbolic, animalistic manifestation of the caster," Harry lectured. "It's not unique to the caster and certainly doesn't represent the whole of their personality, merely a certain aspect. It is subject to change. Emotional upheaval can cause a patronus to change drastically, but it can change even day to day. Not much; say, a gazelle to an antelope, but it can change."

"So whatever shape yours took would be unique to you?" Astoria asked.

"Not unique, just representative," Daphne corrected. "Is it time for dinner?"

"I've been looking forward to the welcoming back feast," Neville remarked as he walked out.

"Coming Harry?" Lisa asked.

Harry considered it, then shook his head. "I had a decent sized lunch. Don't wait up."

 _I want to play with my pet Dementor._

Harry waited them to file out before settling into his work and cracking the box open.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry attempted to find more about the 'phylakterie', or phylactery in english. It was an ancient hebrew device, he learned, which made sense given the sophisticated ancient-judaic understanding of the soul. It was a magical device which connected, or perhaps anchored, the soul to an object for some vague purpose. He was pointed in the direction of a book, _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_. It was a book Harry had seen in the library, in the restricted section, but he could not find it again.

Another student must have gained access for advanced study of Defense Against the Dark Arts and taken it. Harry would have to wait anxiously until it was returned.

Harry also informed his Quidditch team captain that the Dementors would no longer be a problem in any of their matches. The captain had been worried that they couldn't keep him as a seeker and win the cup because of the monsters, but Harry put his worries to ease.

He also gave up his hunt for Luna. He… couldn't bring himself to use her like that. Not again.

Harry stepped down into the dungeons to speak to the potions master in mid-January. He knocked on the office door heard the man's drawling voice bid him enter.

A potent and most powerful smell washed over him as he walked through the door. A cauldron was steaming in the centre of the room, packed in ice. The contents were greenish, and its odor was sour, yet pungent. It tickled his nose in an oddly deep way, which was the only way he could think to phrase it.

He wrinkled his face from it.

Professor Snape turned towards Harry, but if he was surprised to see him it never reached his face. "Recognize this potion, Mr. Potter?"

"It's Wolfsbane," Harry said.

"Do you know why I might be brewing Wolfsbane?"

"Yes, Sir." Harry said.

Professor Snape made a 'hm' sound before turning back to peruse some shelves.

"What do you know about werewolves?"

"Not much more than the usual," Harry began. "Magical resistant hide, increased physical prowess, they become mindless when they turn." Harry pointed at the potion. "Wolfsbane allows a werewolf to keep their mind when they change, stop them from hurting people."

"Not always," the teacher corrected. "Fenrir Greyback was a werewolf who served the Dark Lord. He would drink the potion so he could choose whom to kill and maim."

Harry frowned, having not considered that.

"The potion is supposed to be difficult to brew, and expensive besides." Harry stepped closer to look down at the shifting liquid.

"Perhaps not for much longer," he was corrected again. "The jazbay grapes that make the potion so costly may become cheaper. Thanks to you." Professor Snape gave a slight smirk. "You may allow many werewolves to fit into society with greater ease."

Harry frowned. "I didn't consider werewolves at all. I had Dittany in mind for the project."

"Did you also consider. that in driving the price of ingredients down you may put potioneers and apothecaries out of business?" Professor Snape pressed. "Economics may not be taught here, but I expect you understand supply and demand."

No, he hadn't thought of that, and he told the teacher as much.

"You should be more careful with your discoveries and how they impact society," the professor lectured.

Harry thought for a moment. He had already sent off his research on Dementors to be published. He hadn't considered how that may be positively or negatively impact society.

"I'll be more careful in the future," he vowed.

"See that you do," Professor Snape drawled. "Now, I doubt you came here to discuss werewolves and the magical economy."

"I didn't, Sir. I wanted to ask about potion ingredients. We often use ingredients like gryffin claws or unicorn horn as sources of magical energy."

"And?"

"Well I was wondering what that meant. What does it mean to be a source of magical energy?"

Snape's brow quirked ever so slightly, but after a moment's pause he answered.

"Some creatures and plants absorb magic, or are so inherently magical that we can use them to catalyze our potions," he lectured, all the while giving Harry an evaluating look. "Though, you may be wondering where magic comes from. I have little time to answer such philosophical questions."

Harry nodded. "If we were trying to invent a potion, how would we decide which ingredient to use to power it?"

"Trial and error," Professor Snape answered. " _Careful_ trial and error. Saint Mungo's is always full of those who displayed critical lapses in judgement where a cauldron is concerned."

"So you add ingredients slowly, and in small amounts," Harry surmised.

"Low temperatures can help stabilize a critical part of a reaction." Professor Snape gestured towards the cauldron packed in ice. "If the ingredients have been arithmetically quantified then one can predict the effects of that ingredient."

"And if they're not?" Harry pressed.

"You must, as you guessed, add them little by little, in low quantities. However, too little and you will not produce a potion from which you can measure the effects and determine the course of future brewing attempts."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

"If that's all." Professor Snape dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

Harry found his way to the room and found Daphne already working on some homework. She pointed across the table. "Who's that?"

She was gesturing towards a painting posted on a stand right in front of the large window.

"Maximilian Bernard," Harry said. "He's a French wizard who explored India a few hundred years ago. He agreed to practice French with me if I gave him a window with a view." Harry pointed towards the window.

"You can't imagine how boring it is here after a few hundred years." The explorer said distantly; he had an almost stereotypically thick French accent.

"Did you want to practice?" Daphne pointed towards the hidden boggart.

"I moved it. I don't really need it anymore."

He had told her about his box, and at least part of how he had overcome Dementors.

"You worked on it without me," Daphne accused without much heat.

"Only once."

"Where is it now?"

Harry pointed towards the room with the pensieve.

"So, did it change?" Daphne pushed. "You were going to work on it until it changed."

 _So I did._

"Let's do it," He decided.

"That's fine, just ignore the painting!" The painting shouted back at them as they walked away.

"He's temporary." Harry assured Daphne when he saw the look on her face.

Harry pulled the boggart out of its hiding place and nodded at Daphne to open it.

It swung open and Harry felt the light probe of its legilimency to see what he was afraid of.

Out stepped a lean boy with dark hair, fiddling a wand with both hands.

"Tom?" Harry said, curious more than scared.

Daphne gave Harry a worried look. "Harry what's-"

"Not quite," the boggart replied with an unsettlingly familiar voice, ignoring Daphne.

He looked up and Harry saw his own face reflected back at him, only with deep-set snake-like red eyes he had only seen in the back of Professor Quirrell's head.

"Did you think you could escape me? Harry?" It asked, stepping closer and letting out a short laugh. "We are bounded by more than blood."

"What's going on?" Daphne asked panicked.

The boggart flicked its gaze towards Daphne. "Do you think she understands you?" The boggart asked, and Harry felt himself freeze. "If she knew what you really were you'd be alone again. You're a monster, like me."

"It's not the ways we're similar that matt-"

"You don't believe that," It accused, and it was right, Of course it was right, because it _knew_ him.

Harry said nothing, understanding why the creature had chsen this form as he felt a deep gnawing fear claw up his insides. The sort that usually only took hold while he lay awake at night, alone with thoughts of his future.

"You're just a piece of me," it continued. "You think your accomplishments matter? You told me I never accomplished anything noteworthy. Never made any discoveries." It smirked. "But with you I have. Any ounce of greatness you have, comes from me."

"That's it!" Daphne said stepping closer to stop the exchange.

" _Compungo_."

The boggart dropped to the floor bonelessly from the piercing hex, before Daphne knocked it back into the wardrobe.

Daphne jumped back from her approach. "Harry what was that?!"

Harry breathed to calm himself. He felt his fear and anger slowly melt away. It may have taken a minute or two, but he did it.

"We're done," he said.

"No we absolutely are not." Daphne caught his arm.

He sighed. And breathed. She was right up next to him. He could smell honey and a gentle, creamy smell from her hair.

"The man who would become Voldemort-" Daphne flinched slightly. "-Was once a boy named Tom Riddle," Harry said.

"So, what does this mean?"

"Daphne please don't," Harry said. "I'm asking you."

She grimaced. "Fine." He stepped away from her. "Wait." She grabbed him again and stood close. She hesitated for a moment, like she wasn't sure what to say, before taking his hand in both hers. Her skin felt soft under his fingers. He felt a moment of weakness and reached out for her mind.

[What did it say about me?]

He pulled out immediately and if she felt the intrusion she didn't respond.

"Where are you going?" She finally asked.

"Ravenclaw tower," he replied immediately. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay…" She said slowly. "Are you going to be alright?"

Harry paused, and after a moment he nodded, just the once. "Yes. I will be."

"Alright." She let him go and stepped away.

Harry turned and left.

Harry found Ravenclaw tower common room empty except for one platinum haired girl sitting in a corner, facing the walls

Harry hesitated. He had resolved not to find Luna. She had enough problems already. He couldn't bring himself to inflict his own on her. He felt the same pull he had felt in the chamber towards Ginny. Sympathy, guilt and empathy.

"Harry Potter," she said, turning towards him with that placid, airy smile.

"Hello Luna." He could feel his own exhaustion quite acutely at this point.

"I expected you to come find me," she mused. "But you didn't."

"When?" He asked.

"You changed your mind. I thought you'd come find me when I came back. I thought you wanted to know."

 _Ah._

She knew that he thought about using her power.

"Sorry," he said.

"You didn't do it." She dismissed breathily. "Don't you want to know?"

"Of course I want to know," he replied, anger slipping past his occlumency and into his tone.

 _Don't tempt me._

She stood from her seat and walked up close to him. Harry stepped back from the proximity.

"Did you know when we met, about this?" Harry gestured to the room.

"It doesn't work that way," She informed him, staring above his head rather than at him.

Harry breathed and made his decision.

"Have you ever visited a mind healer?" He asked.

"No." Luna said. "They're quite expensive."

"Do you know where my room is?"

She nodded. "I do." He felt that feeling from before. That anxiety, like she was playing him.

"You're welcome there." He told her.

 _Voldemort wouldn't have done this. He would have taken what he wanted._

"Thank you." She smiled gently, before stepping away from him and back towards the corner she had been sitting in before.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and felt some part of him relax.

"I'm sorry I didn't try to help you earlier."

"You did say that you would," Luna said, nodding. "And you are now."

"Is that enough?" Harry asked.

"Enough to help me or enough to alleviate your guilt?" Luna attempted to clarify.

Harry said nothing. Silence answered her question.

"Perhaps," she answered. "Who could say?"

 _You could._

She sat back down and stared at nothing. Or perhaps past it.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry was pulled up to the Headmaster's office for their monthly meeting once again. Harry hadn't been sure that they would continue, now that he could defend himself from Dementors. He was at once relieved, and entirely on edge.

He stepped through into the office feeling a strange cocktail of emotions. He looked at the desk filled with magical instruments and books. _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ was there, buried under a golden spinning astrolabe-like device.

Harry felt a rush of anger. The book he needed to understand the nature of the connection between himself and Voldemort was here. Had Dumbledore pulled it, knowing Harry would want to read it? Dumbledore had allowed Harry to explore every other field he had so wished, why had he lied about this one? Why had he taken steps towards stopping Harry from learning about this?

 _Oh? Headmaster? Any fruit of the garden, but not of this tree?_

Harry calmed himself.

"Ah, Harry." Dumbledore said. "I wanted to be the first to congratulate you." Dumbledore pushed an article across the desk.

 **The Magic of Dementors**

 **By Harry Potter**

"They published it, then," Harry said, voice coming off a little flat.

"You'd be surprised how few people have studied Dementors," Dumbledore replied merrily. "Most people avoid them."

Harry nodded.

"Something wrong Harry?"

"I didn't think these meetings would continue, now that the Dementors aren't a problem."

"Did you want them to stop?" Dumbledore said. If he was offended though, Harry couldn't hear it.

"I didn't say that."

"Indeed you did not." Dumbledore leaned back and popped a candy into his mouth in what was becoming a familiar image to Harry. "Are you looking forward to your first trip to Hogsmeade? It's this weekend, is it not?"

"It is. Though my friends are likely more excited than I am."

"Ms. Davis?"

Harry nodded. "She is the excitable sort, Sir."

Dumbledore gave him a small smile. "And your studies?"

Harry debated with himself for a moment. "I may have had a bit of breakthrough." Harry held up his hand and let sparks fly down it.

Dumbledore leaned forward.

"I wasn't aware that you were electrokinetic."

"Perhaps I'm not. It could just be wandless magic."

"As any ability like this could be," Dumbledore agreed as he examined Harry. "Wouldn't you agree that pyrokinesis is just a breed of wandless magic?"

Harry felt confused. "I thought they were different, Sir."

"Perhaps they are. Some are born with an innate ability to summon fire, some learn to summon fire with wandless magic. There is little difference in the effects, so who is to say there is a difference in sources?"

Harry considered that. It seemed reasonable.

"Professor Snape informed me of an interesting conversation you two shared."

"On potion creation," Harry affirmed with a nod.

"I must ask that you don't attempt to create any such thing for at least several more years, unless you are supervised," Dumbledore requested. "Many bright witches and wizards have harmed themselves and others whilst creating potions."

"It admittedly seemed a bit complex for now."

"Working on other things," the Headmaster correctly interpreted. "I understand. You have heard that Peter Pettigrew was spotted recently."

Harry cocked his head. "I hadn't."

"He was seen in Greece, near the Albanian border. It is curious however."

"Is it?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"When Tom Riddle began his change to Voldemort he spent some time in Albania." Dumbledore leaned back. "Indeed, before the late Quirinus Quirrell became professor here he embarked on an expedition into the Albanian forests. One wonders what he may have found there."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked. "Why Albania? Did he return there again?"

"One wonders." Dumbledore nodded. "I intend to spend some time in Greece this summer, enjoy the atmosphere and so forth."

 _He's going to investigate then._

" _How's your French coming, Harry?_ " Dumbledore continued, switching to the language in question with ease.

" _Slow,_ " Harry returned, taking his time to enunciate the word after a moment to pause and try and translate what the Headmaster said to English, then form a response and translate it back.

"When you can respond in the language without translating, you'll know that you are bilingual," Dumbledore explained.

Harry nodded, committing to memory. There was silence.

"It seems that we have reached the end of our discussion. Now Harry, before I let you return, I must ask if there is anything you wish to tell me."

"No, Headmaster," Harry responded immediately.

Dumbledore hummed lightly. "Off you go then."

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Harry enjoyed his trip to Hogsmeade the next day.

His friends watched him anxiously as they passed the Dementors but they were the ones who turned pale while he maintained his complexion. The Dementors truly couldn't harm him any longer. Tracey dragged him from shop to shop to show him the lay out of the small village laughing all the while. To be honest Harry was happy up at the castle but sitting down for a butterbeer with his friends was perhaps patronus worthy.

In fact, he enjoyed those trips for all the rest of the year, which rapidly became a blur. His visits to Dumbledore became bi-monthly and he made quick progress in all his studies. Perhaps the crowning gem of the year was when Ravenclaw won the Quidditch cup.

He had never before understood why he was so entranced with Quidditch, but he did now. The aerokinesis he felt had always been there. A connection to the air that had drawn him into the sky even from his first week at Hogwarts.

He never talked about the Boggart with Daphne, even when they practiced Occlumency. She made great leaps in progress until she could divert him slightly. If he was being gentle and not truly trying to hurt her. If he had been trying to rip her open it would have been easy, but he never did.

Luna Lovegood had begun visiting Harry in the room, only ever joining him when he was alone. Likely because she knew he was alone before she showed up each time.

She would usually sit and just talk in his direction about wrackspurts or some creature which she claimed existed but that only she could see for an hour or so and he would listen. It felt nice to help someone like this. It was unusual, and as an added benefit he found himself pitying her less and less.

"It's like having a friend," she told him.

"Friends are nice things to have," he told her back.

"You have many of them." Luna informed him, something almost bitter in her airy voice.

"I didn't always." He returned. "I know what it's like to be alone." There was something almost prideful in that and defensive. Like he had overcome some great obstacle.

"We should all be so misfortunate." Luna seemed to agree.

She seemed to know how to put him off balance.

Internally, even as he took his exams and had fun with his friends in Hogsmeade, he was nagged by thoughts of the soul and how Dumbledore had yet to return _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ to the library. It was becoming more and more clear that Dumbledore was keeping something from Harry. He already knew that at least in part; Dumbledore was keeping secret why Voldemort had targeted his family to begin with.

The year quickly drew to a close without Hermione doing any more than glaring at him from across rooms. Harry wished her the best.

Harry demonstrated his project to Flitwick, using Central American Runes to reduce the temperature in an area. It was suitably impressive, and Flitwick passed him for both Magical Theory and Ancient Studies.

With the end of the year came the knowledge of who would be going to France. Harry and Daphne were going, and Tracey knew the others given how keyed into the Hogwarts gossip line she was, but Harry never cared to ask.

She told him anyways.

"Mandy Brocklehurst out did Su Li this year," Tracey said. "But previous years count so she's still going. Hermione was offered it, but nobody is sure if she accepted or not. Ernie MacMillan is going, he's always done well at school. I'm not sure who the last boy who was offered the position was. It could be Corner or Zabini, it's obviously not one of the other Gryffindor boys though." She snorted. "No offense Neville."

"None taken?"

Before long it was time to take the train ride away from home and back to the Longbottom family manor. He waved goodbye to his friends, to some of them for more than a year, which was difficult but… he couldn't miss the opportunity to see Beauxbatons.

Daphne promised to schedule some meeting between them to keep practicing Occlumency and she said that he was more than welcome to visit her.

He waved goodbye to them at the train station and departed with Neville and his grandmother to their house.

When he reached his bedroom he slowly approached his bed.

There was a letter, written on yellowed parchment in an old envelope, waiting for him there. Sitting, like for all the world it belonged there, and daring him to pick it up and read it.

So, he did.

 **To Harry Potter**

 **From G.G.**

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" _And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." - Book of Genisis 2:16 and 2:17_

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 **Alright, so** _ **next**_ **is 'The Hermit'**

 **WG**


	12. The Hermit

**Beta: Digitize27**

 _Since I like to discuss stuff I made a forum for this story._

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" _The worst cruelty that can be inflicted on a human being, is isolation" - Sukarno_

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Daphne was an exceptional witch. Beautiful, talented, intelligent; though, her mother might say the worst thing about her was that she _knew_ that she was all of these things. Daphne also knew that her mother meant that in all kindness, and often said it with a hint of pride.

" _Your daughter is an incredibly bright witch,"_ someone might say.

" _And doesn't she know it,"_ her mother would return with a smile.

She knew that her mother meant that she could be humbler, listen more to her peers, and be less independent. That she could be gentler like her sister, but Daphne had always done things on her terms, for better or for worse.

While he was alive, it had driven her father spare.

She did things her way; where possible, that is. Daphne was aware that there was always give and take in society and social situations. Never was that more apparent than in the case of Harry James Potter.

"Be back before dinner, and you k-" her mother started.

"Yes, Mom, 'Not one step down Knockturn Alley.'" Daphne finished in a passable impression of her Mom.

"Off for a date with your boyfriend?" Astoria giggled.

Daphne didn't bother to respond. Astoria didn't understand her relationship with Harry, and Daphne didn't bother to try to explain it.

Partly, because Astoria wouldn't understand even if she did explain it, she was also really just trying to poke fun at her older sister and wasn't actually interested in understanding Harry. But also because _Daphne_ didn't fully understand her relationship with Harry. They were friends, but...

It was confusing, especially this last year. In a good sort of way. Kind of.

She wasn't really sure about that either.

"Jealous, Aster?" Daphne asked.

Astoria turned red and sputtered adorably as Daphne paced over to the fireplace. She took a handful of powder and enunciated clearly.

"Diagon Alley."

In a flash of green she was in the Alley. She took measured steps over to the ice cream shop where she had decided they would meet. He was already sitting there, looking as though he had been waiting for some time.

Daphne herself was five minutes early.

It was probably one of those neurotic Harry Potter things.

As though he felt her presence, which she confessed to herself was a possibility, his gaze snapped up to her face from where he had been eyeing a magical pet emporium with several runespoors on display in the front window.

She felt her breath catch for all of a second. Harry could be slightly unnerving, but he wasn't dangerous to her. There was no reason that her heart should be beating faster, nor she should feel a sense of anxiety when she saw him; except that it was, and she totally did.

And she knew there was a perfectly suitable explanation for that.

She used her occlumency and cleared it from her mind as best as she could. She gazed back at him. His eyes were a shade too bright to be anything other than magical. She knew that he once wore glasses to correct poor vision and that he had done something to permanently fix his eyesight, likely potions. An expensive process, to be sure, otherwise everyone would do it.

Perhaps the magic had left that twinkle in Harry's eyes. Though, there was a reflective quality in them, like they were mirrors. They seemed to show her, not Harry, but herself. That aspect had been there, even before he had them fixed, something that only those who were around him when he wore his glasses would know.

Daphne knew… very little about Harry, really. She knew the public stuff, but she didn't know where he lived before he started staying with Neville. In fact, he knew far more about her formative years than she knew of his. All she knew was that he had lived with muggles, and in first year had displayed anxieties about returning to them.

She did, however, know how Harry thought. At least a little. Probably more than anybody else.

Her breathing may have hitched, but her step didn't and in a moment she had sat down beside him.

There was a nervous energy about Harry. Something that she was sure, and took great pride in the fact, that only she could have detected in his mannerisms. He was rolling his wand slightly, and after looking at her his eyes met the table.

Harry wasn't afraid of anything. Well, that was completely false. He wasn't afraid of anything _normal._ She recalled the way that he had ignored the Dementors at Hogsmeade. He had nothing to fear from them, not now. The Boggart had taught her that he was afraid of something new, somewhat afraid of himself and someone named Tom.

She had dropped that at the time, and they had never discussed again. She knew not to push. Harry would talk if and only if he was ready, and if and only if he felt like it.

Harry gently pushed a copy of the Daily Prophet over for her to look at.

 **Pettigrew Murders Last of Potter Family Relatives**

"Your muggle family?" Daphne asked looking at it. "Who were they?"

"My aunt, uncle and cousin," Harry explained.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said honestly.

Harry shrugged.

 _Not much of a loss, then._

"But you're safe?" She asked.

"Dumbledore had taken to increase security around Longbottom Manor." Harry answered without actually answering.

"I thought he was last spotted in Greece?"

"He was." Harry nodded.

Harry only ever answered the questions you asked him, and he was an odd srt of conversationalist, if it could even be called that. He was plain and obvious though, if nothing else. It was clear when he didn't want to talk about something. In a world where everyone had an agenda and held grudges, Harry was a breath of fresh air.

"Are you worried about Pettigrew?" She tried to pin down his nervous energy.

"Not particularly," he said, frowning in slight confusion. She must be far off the mark if he had been that caught off-guard.

She would probably never know what was bothering him right at this moment, then. Another question to add to the puzzle that was Harry Potter.

Daphne set a hand down on the table, carefully reigning her power in. She didn't allow the flood of knowledge to enter her brain from the table. It was a confusing power at the best of times

Sometimes it came as visions, memories of something that had happened; almost like a pensieve, but from the perspective of an object. It was like seeing through the object's eyes, if it had any. Sometimes it was just sight or sound or smell and even once, much to her misfortune, taste.

Usually it was just knowledge; truth as plain as her own name, etched into her mind. Maybe a flash of vision to come with it. It was hard to aim into the history of an object and get the sensation she wanted. It was an awkward power to control.

What was even more difficult was pushing thoughts _back_.

Daphne reached down and withdrew a small plain black box. It was rectangular, no larger than two of her fists. She set it on the table and Harry immediately leaned forward in interest. She smirked slightly.

"What's this?"

"An early birthday present," she explained as he picked it up to examined more closely.

This was going to surprise him, surely.

"It's enchanted," he surmised.

"It should only open for you. You can keep things safe in it."

"There's no markings." Harry was examining all corners of it closely. "You didn't use runes." He turned it upside down. "How'd you charm it so only I can open it?"

"Well, I can open it too," Daphne admitted, still feeling smug.

"Ah, because you made it with your power," he concluded, still examining the device. "You didn't charm it at all. A side effect of the magic you pushed into it."

She felt her grin falter and was more than shocked. "You knew?"

Harry looked up at her, confused.

"You knew I could use my power to push into objects, to charm out their own enchantments," Daphne clarified.

"I suspected that you could weave intent into objects far better than I could ever hope to match, with practice."

"You didn't tell me." Daphne had thought this would surprise him, but it turns out that he knew her power even better than _she_ did, apparently. "How long ago did you know I could do this?"

"Since you made the passageway," he answered without pause. "I thought you knew." He now looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Is there anything else you _suspect_ about my power?"

"Every mind is different," he prefaced, before explaining quickly, almost in a panic. "But I suspected that you'd be able to out enchant even Dumbledore with enough practice. I think that you can push emotions into objects and weave enchantments together to make them last longer than anyone else can. Well, anyone else who isn't psychometric."

She smirked as he quickly put the words out to try and appease her and resisted the urge to giggle at his franticness.

 _He thinks I can outdo Dumbledore?_

It seemed a little far-fetched, but his confidence in her felt nice.

"In the future you should tell me when you have suspicions that could help me like that." She pointed an accusing finger at hi, which earned a hurried nod. He could be so adorable sometimes when put on the spot.

She sighed. He was giving her a worried look and she felt some amusement at his discomfort.

"Did I ruin it?" He asked.

She shook her head laughing lightly. "Not really. I just wanted it to surprise you."

 _I didn't want you to leave me behind._

"What?" He was still looking at her in concern.

"It's just, you're doing all these great things," she confessed. "Getting published, casting patronuses… How am I supposed to keep up?"

"I told Hermione not to try when she asked me that same thing." He could be ever so blunt sometimes.

"Hermione asked you this?" She latched onto that. She didn't want to do whatever Hermione did to push him away.

"She didn't understand the things I study. Why I need to study them."

"Like mind magic?" Had he shared that with Hermione? Daphne wasn't sure how to feel about that. It seemed like something deeply personal. Something that only belonged to the two of them.

"Blood magic, and soul magic." Harry corrected, only to pause for a moment and stroke his jaw. "She didn't understand me the way that you do."

She felt herself almost flush. It was true. She didn't care about that magic. Well she did _care,_ but she didn't judge him for it.

If anything, there was a sort of respect for it.

 _Things were so different now, between them._

 _Or perhaps just for her._

 _He doesn't seem any different._

Someone came up to them, and she turned to find a girl with long platinum-colored hair and immediately knew who it was.

Luna Lovegood.

"Did she give you the box?" Luna asked airily.

"She did," Harry said stiffly.

There was an awkward silence while Daphne stared between the two of them.

 _It's like a bad joke. Three psychics walk into an ice cream parlor. Who talks first?_

"We're friends," Luna answered Daphne's unasked question with a voice full of air. "We chat, at times."

Harry nodded. "She's never come and talked to me while anyone else is around, though." Daphne could hear the confusion in his voice.

"I just wanted to see," Luna explained, looking at Daphne. "Have you ever touched his wand?"

Daphne didn't flush at what most of wizarding society would see as an innuendo.

She most certainly did not.

Instead she looked at Harry. "You told her about me?"

"No."

 _Oh right, mind-bendingly powerful seer._

"I think I see father now." Luna drifted off in the direction of the pet emporium where an oddly dressed man who resembled the girl was being ushered out by the shopkeeper. She waived lightly and bid them "goodbye."

"That was… interesting," Daphne tried after a moment.

"She's sort of like that."

"You two talk often?"

"Not really. Just towards the end of last term."

Harry was watching Luna leave with an interested look in his eyes. Daphne would have wondered about that if she had never seen him looking at his Dementor Box with that same look. It was like he was calculating a particularly difficult arithmancy equation carved into the back of Lovegood's head.

He turned back towards her with a less clinical look and she couldn't help but laugh at the awkwardness.

"Come on," she said as she stood up. "You need new clothes."

He didn't really, though he was a bit taller, but she liked dressing him and teasing him.

"Alright." He stood up.

They meandered through the Alley together, and she had a wonderful time messing with him and giggling at his various faux pas and enjoying the experience before they settled back at the ice cream parlor and she picked up a vanilla cone.

"Are you ready to practice?" She finally asked. This was what she had been waiting for.

He smiled lightly. "Whenever you're ready."

She had been looking forward to this and not even Luna's awkwardness would bring that down.

She nodded and after a moment felt him in her thoughts. It was almost comforting by this point.

Perhaps above all it was... _intimate_. More than anything else could possibly be.

Sure, she knew about sex and all that, but this was different. It was on another level… almost. Kind of?

She felt fingers lightly brushing against the inside of her skull before grabbing hold of something. Daphne tried to yank the strand away from his touch but he held firm and she felt a twinge of pain. A reminder of what he could do if he so chose.

But he didn't.

He was gentle.

She cleared her mind and twisted away, and his fingers slipped.

She grinned. "You didn't see that coming?" She said playfully.

He shook his head. "You're certainly improving." He gave her that small smile of his.

"Could you have stopped me?" She asked.

"Yes." His reply was immediate and honest.

That sort of dampened her spirits. "You let me succeed," she accused.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said softly, considering her with his eyes as he spoke, and didn't the way he said that just make her chest feel all warm?

"I'll never grow if you just let me succeed."

"You'll also never grow if I torture you and turn your head inside out," he returned easily.

She scowled. "Do it again."

He gave a slight nod and did so. He grasped a different memory this time.

[She stuck his hand to a desk in the room, before it was enchanted, and she laughed. He was grinning softly too, even stuck to the desk.]

It was a fond memory of being with her friend. She tried to pull back and she felt him coax her and…

 _O-o-oh._

She nearly moaned out loud when he coaxed her gently with his mental fingers. She felt herself relax into the table.

He immediately pulled out and some part of her whimpered.

She suddenly received something from the table, her mental defenses falling, letting foreign images rush forth.

[ _A child spilt their ice cream, blueberry flavored, and cried loudly._ _The young girl's mother rushed to hush the toddler and-_ ]

The transmitted sight and sound was followed by a little context which entered her mind. She somehow just knew that the mother often took her son to get ice cream, once a week at least when she could spare the time from her work at the ministry.

She shot back up away from the table to meet his eyes. He seemed content to wait until she caught her breath.

She noticed that she was biting her lip and stopped. "It feels good," she said, far more breathlessly than was perhaps entirely proper.

"I think that we should be done for now," he asserted definitively. There was a deep concern on his face.

She wanted to argue. Like before, she wanted to ask him to do it again. Not for practice, but to just linger in her head and brush her thoughts and coax her.

It's what she wanted to ask before she was interrupted in the room just before Christmas.

She knew what this was, really. That she liked him more than 'like.' It was kind of incredible that he didn't know. Or didn't act on it.

 _But did he know? And would he act on it if he did?_

How could he not know, though? How could he not know how she felt about him when he spent so much time in her thoughts?

Though it was more incredible that she hadn't mustered the courage to tell him, to ask him.

She put it behind her occlumency. She was good at that. Her visions were more controlled too, a sure sign of progress, yet she still couldn't resist him.

She sighed as he stood up.

"I'll message you another meeting time," she vowed.

He just nodded.

"Bye Harry," she mumbled quietly to his back as he paced away.

 _Good god is he frustrating._

The exceptional witch thought.

And she _was_ exceptional, and pretty, and talented, and independent. But she was also a fourteen-year-old girl.

A fourteen-year-old girl who was crushing on her friend.

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Harry had stared at the letter for a long time.

 _G.G._

He had opened it to find a mostly blank sheet of yellowing parchment.

It still sat in his notebook, latched shut. Harry had translated the letter from German with his notes and it lingered in his thoughts now. It was almost frantic, the way the letter clung to his mind.

 **Hello Mr. Potter,**

 **May I say that it is a pleasure to correspond with you. So young, and already receiving publications. I, myself, was older when I began but talent blooms in all shades.**

 **You may have heard of me.**

 **My name is Gellert Grindelwald.**

 **Should you wish to reply, this parchment is enchanted for such communication.**

That was it. The entirety of the message from Dumbledore's _other_. The debate roared in Harry's mind. He _should_ tell Dumbledore! He _should_ tell _someone_! Yet he hadn't. He kept it sealed in his book and spoke of it to no one.

There were the usual questions, of course. Why and how did Grindelwald deliver this to Harry? Harry was supposed to be protected at Longbottom Manor, a place Grindelwald should have no way of knowing about, nor knowledge of Harry's residency there. Grindelwald was hundreds of kilometers away, trapped in an impenetrable and inescapable fortress.

Supposedly.

Even meeting with Daphne hadn't been a sufficient distraction.

Harry had measured the parchment and found no curses, merely a bridging scrying enchantment, not unlike what he himself had used on his friend's mirrors. Though, much more powerful and much longer lasting, in all likelihood.

Further, was this even Grindelwald? Who was to say? Harry wouldn't recognize the penmanship of someone a century and a half his senior, whom he had also never met.

His quill hovered over the opened parchment while he debated. He already knew that he wanted to write back. The letter, brief as it was, had spoken to him. He knew that he could not ignore it.

 _ **Can you prove that you are Grindelwald?**_

He wrote in German into the parchment, just beneath Grindelwald's writing, and as he did, the Dark Lord's scrawl dissolved away.

He waited five minutes eagerly, watching for a reply.

 **Perhaps.**

Harry frowned at the unhelpful response.

 **Is there a way I can that you would believe?**

That was fair. It had to be something only Grindelwald would know. Harry gestured and his journal opened to the chapter for the Great Duel, specifically the section he had dedicated to Grindelwald's spells.

He hunted for a moment for a spell he knew nothing about.

 _ **Gellert Grindelwald used an air-based spell against Albus Dumbledore in their final duel. He made no incantation, yet in the midst of other spells one can spot the fluctuation of air, as though above a fire.**_

 _ **What was the purpose of this spell?**_

Harry's German was getting better. In writing, at least. He doubted he could speak it and he still needed to cross the channel to study French, but making the time was difficult with the protections in place around the house.

Harry waited for a reply, and he didn't have to wait nearly as long this time.

 **A type of conjuration I designed by studying the strategies of an Aerokinetic whose friendship I had the pleasure of receiving.**

 **It was designed to make the air an instrument to crush or cut. Though it had other uses.**

 **I once used it in 1942 to rip the breath from the lungs of an opponent.**

Harry frowned. He recalled the incident in question. A battle near Moscow where Grindelwald had indeed stolen the breath of his enemies but he had also torn their innards out with it.

There was one way to find out. Harry walked to the kitchen of the house and grabbed an orange before returned to his room.

Harry focused a touch of Aerokinesis in his palm, focusing on the sensation he felt while flying and making the air as flat and sharp as he could. He panted from the exertion and felt sweat run down his head.

Air naturally resisted conformity due to its free nature. What he was doing was as exhausting, if not more so, than any other conjuration.

He swung, slicing the fruit in half before rolling his hand into a fist and crushing the rinds with the air.

 _Strenuous._

He threw the mess away and sat down. The spell had worked.

Which implied…

Harry began to write back.

 _ **Hello Gellert Grindelwald,**_

 _ **It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hate to be impolite but I'm not sure I understand why you've written me.**_

He waited.

 **Don't deceive yourself.**

 **We have already begun.**

Harry eyed the response.

 _ **You're teaching me.**_

He wrote back.

 **I am, and I will, should you choose.**

Harry leaned back. He felt a tension that was hard to put down.

He made his decision.

 _ **What will you teach me?**_

One word answered him.

 **Anything.**

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 **Dear Mr. Potter,**

 **It is my pleasure to inform you that due to your high academic standing, you have been invited to attend Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons this year as a representative of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.**

 **As a student in a foreign country, you and you alone are responsible for overcoming any and all language barriers you may face, as well as representing your school and country in a dignified manner.**

 **If you are unable to attend Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons for any reason, please reply by owl no later than the tenth of August to inform us that you are surrendering your position.**

 **The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock sharp, bound for France on September 3rd.**

 **Your letter from Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons is enclosed.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Professor M. McGonagall**

 **Deputy Headmistress**

Harry turned the letter over and set it aside.

He opened the next letter. It was written entirely in French.

 _ **Dear Mr. Potter,**_

 _ **Please note that the new school year will begin on September the Fourth. As a foreign student you will be responsible for arriving on the proper date.**_

 _ **Second Years are permitted to leave the school grounds and visit the city of Cannes at their discretion, with the permission of a parent or guardian.**_

 _ **A list of books for next year is enclosed.**_

 _ **Yours sincerely,**_

 _ **Professor Alexandre Du'Mont**_

 _ **Deputy Headmaster**_

He could only imagine the logistical nightmare involved to set this up.

Harry himself had gone to the Ministry to acquire and apparition licence over the summer so he no longer had to hide his abilities, and he had finally gone to France to learn French.

Just a few dozen hours a week and he had mastered the language in short time. It was almost cheating, in a way. He could immerse himself in a foreign language in a way that any school with language classes would be jealous of.

Harry had met with Daphne one more time to practice occlumency and had sent Luna a mirror so she could contact him if she so wished. He set up her mirror so she could only bother him. He didn't want her harassing Daphne at all hours of the day, and night; which she would, in all likelihood.

He couldn't deny himself the sense of growing excitement he felt at the prospect of spending time learning magic elsewhere, though he would miss Hogwarts and his friends dearly.

Neville had already left for Scotland on the first of September, while Harry stayed behind so he could catch the train bound south for France.

He apparated to King's Cross at 10:00 sharp and proceeded to board the train. He climbed aboard with his trunk, noting that the whole train had shifted on the inside. There was a corridor that ran the length of the express, but instead of compartments on both sides there were rooms on one of them and compartments on the other. Near the front where he had boarded, there was a door off of the hall with number and a symbol above it.

The symbol was the figure for Venus and the number was two. This compartment held the second year, girl's dormitory then.

They must have set up the train to be liveable. Beauxbatons likely couldn't accommodate the flux of incoming students. In each train car there was a compartment that looked exactly the same as normal across from a dormitory.

Harry made his way down until he reached a room that had a four and the symbol for Mars. Inside was a dormitory for three. Harry claimed the bed next to the door.

Harry felt someone approaching. He recognized Dumbledore's mind. He tensed internally and muted his frustration with the Headmaster using occlumency.

"Early, Harry?' Dumbledore stepped into the dormitory.

Harry nodded. He hadn't seen Dumbledore since his aunt, uncle, and cousin were killed, he certainly hadn't told the wizard about his new pen-pal, though he had yet to ask Grindelwald the big question:

What did the former Dark Lord know about soul magic, and the connections between souls?

The one thing Dumbledore refused to tell him, perhaps Grindelwald would.

He hadn't asked, because he didn't trust Grindelwald, despite the small pointers Harry had received from the man. And, though he cared for Dumbledore, he couldn't help but feel concerned regarding the subject.

He supposed he was in an odd place about the whole situation, and he could admit that to himself freely.

" _Have you mastered the language of love yet, Harry?_ " Dumbledore continued, in the language in question.

" _I am confident that I am bilingual. I intend to begin working on German next,"_ Harry returned. He could now slipping between the two languages easily. Of course his German was getting better too, as he asked more and more questions to the yellow parchment gently folded and hidden in Daphne's box.

" _Well done young man._ " Dumbledore beamed. " _And of course, I saw your latest paper._ "

" _The one Arithmantically quantifying basic Thermomancy?_ "

Dumbledore nodded his affirmation but chuckled. " _The rest of the magical populace may disagree with you on what should be referred to as 'basic,' but yes._ "

Harry never would have published it without help from Grindelwald. A few questions here and there about complex linear equations had set him straight.

" _I also wished to inform you that you have indeed been granted permission to leave Beauxbatons' campus in your spare time. Further, I took the liberty of signing you into the fourth-year dueling classes. Of course, the French begin dueling third year, and the art is a core component of the Durmstrang curriculum._ _If you intend to be competitive you must be prepared to bridge that difference._ "

Harry had been studying the greatest duel in history for nine months, practicing dueling chains for longer, and he had access to the advice and teachings of _the_ Gellert Grindelwald and Headmaster Albus Percival Dumbledore on the subject.

He could compete, or he would damn sure find a way to do so.

" _I won't disappoint you,_ " he told his Grandfather figure.

" _While I'd enjoy staying and chatting for some time, I'm afraid I must prepare for the journey,_ " Dumbledore bemoaned cheekily. " _When you reach my age you'll understand the difficulties in traveling, and I must see the conductor besides."_

Dumbledore stepped out of the dormitory. Harry watched him go and relaxed slightly. He could find no indication that Dumbledore knew about Harry's growing suspicions.

That wasn't of course the same as Dumbledore not knowing. Just that Harry could not detect it.

Harry settled his things in. Taking careful measures for the arrangement of his possessions and a certain degree of pleasure in the control it granted him.

Harry set Daphne's box in his robes. Inside were the memory of the duel and Grindelwald's parchment. Harry set aside a small stone bowl and began to carve runes into it.

The process would take time to create a pensieve more manually rather than by sacrificing and receiving one as he had done before. But it wasn't as though he could take his other one with him and there were aspects of the memory he still needed to study.

Doubting that he would have a place to hide its effects if he should take it out of the box, and knowing that it requires constant reducing, Harry had decided that the best option had been to let his Dementor go. He owed it his understanding of Thermomancy, but he was aware of the dangers it posed and had ruled it too risky to leave behind or take with him.

He took his time settling in before he heard a voice from the mirror in his pocket.

"Harry?"

He picked it up and looked into it to see Daphne's face.

"Are you already on the train? Astoria and I have just arrived." Daphne glanced to off to something he couldn't see. "I already gave my sister the slip."

" _Your sister got in?_ " He asked in French. He caught her annoyed look. "You do realize all our classes will be in French all year, don't you?"

"Yeah yeah, rub it in," she mumbled at him. "I'll pick it up eventually," she affirmed more confidently.

She would. Psychometry likely lent itself to learning languages better than perhaps even legilimency did.

Well some brands did. Being able to taste the history of objects probably wouldn't be too helpful.

He knew Daphne could pick up sight, and sound at least from objects, that or pure knowledge, or some combination of all three. He based audio on her knowledge of his and Neville's conversation that one time – though that could be explained by magic just filling her brain with truth – and visual information being received based on her foreknowledge of the boggart and of his damage to the table.

So, she was either a combination of psychometrically clairaudient and clairsentient or psychometrically claircognizant. P _erhaps_ even more.

He really couldn't say what her upper limits were, or what her control is, or really how it worked. It was a modality he could never truly experience.

She had been nervous about touching that blood-stained book. Could she control what she received, or was she at its mercy? He hoped not, and he suspected not. That could drive her to madness faster than even Luna's gifts could.

"I'm in the compartment across from the fourth-year girl's dormitory." She informed him. He reached out mentally and felt her familiar mind quite close by.

"I'll be right there."

He cut the connection and put the mirror in his pocket again.

He made sure his most valuable things were well hidden – his cloak, the memory, the parchment – and he brought the start of the new pensieve with him to the next compartment over, carrying it in the pockets of his robes.

Someone walked into the dormitory. Harry turned and recognized Ernie Macmillan. The Hufflepuff had spoken out against Harry during second-year, but Harry had taken his vengeance at the time; he could let what the other boy said go. It wasn't like he had ever attacked Harry's friends or set himself against him.

"Potter," Ernie greeted nervously.

[Oh no...]

Harry pulled from the teen's mind that he had been nervous about accepting the position because he was afraid Harry might hold a grudge.

Harry thought he could alleviate that fairly easily.

"Call me Harry," he welcomed in a pleasant tone. "You might as well if we're going to be rooming together."

Ernie looked more than a little relieved.

"You've taken this one, then?" Ernie gestured to the bed and the space Harry had claimed.

Harry nodded. "But it doesn't matter much to me, I can move."

Ernie shook his head and took the middle bed. "Nah this one is fine." Harry stepped out as Ernie set his trunk down next to the bed.

Harry stepped down a train car to find Daphne talking to a redhead Harry had never actually talked to, but in a class of forty students it was hard not to know everyone's names.

"-st me. You don't have anything to worry about," Daphne was saying. She turned around as he walked in. "You didn't tell me you were publishing something new."

Harry shrugged as he walked closer. "It must have slipped my mind." He met eyes with Susan Bones and caught her nervousness.

"Harry, you know Susan, right?"

Harry nodded. "We've had classes together, but I don't think we've ever actually met." He extended his hand. "Harry Potter."

She took it, and he felt her anxiety decrease slightly. "I'm Susan Bones."

"Did you get permission to visit Cannes from Dumbledore?" Daphne pressed. "And the permission to duel?"

"I did."

"It's a little embarrassing that we'll have to duel the third-years, though," Daphne complained, "just because we don't teach dueling at Hogwarts. I hear that if we display enough talent we'll be allowed to move up to a competitive place."

Harry said nothing.

"What? What is it?" Daphne pressed him, reading his silence.

"Dumbledore informed me that I should be put in the fourth-year dueling curriculum." Harry informed her, slightly anxious at her response.

"Of course he did." Daphne rolled her eyes and sighed. "You realize that you _are_ going to teach me."

"I supposed as much," Harry nodded.

"Wait, what does the Headmaster have to do with this?" Susan asked.

"He's Harry's legal guardian," Daphne clarified.

"Too little of my family survived Voldemort for me to go anywhere else," he dismissed.

Susan accepted that. "Have any of the other fourth-year boys arrived yet?"

"Ernie Macmillan did, though I'm not sure about the last," Harry answered.

Susan walked away to see her fellow Hufflepuff.

"The Bones family has a long tradition of powerful witches and wizards." Daphne informed him. "You-Know-Who personally killed most of her family to reduce their influence in the war. Only Susan and Amelia, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, survived."

Harry frowned at that. "I didn't know that."

Having said and heard everything she needed, Daphne settled into silently reading some of her text books for the upcoming year.

Harry had already read his, so he took the stone bowl out of his pocket and began to carve runes across with his wand.

Su Li stepped in and gave a nervous wave before walking into the dormitory. Michael stepped in with Susan and Ernie and they sat down. Su re-joined them and conversation flowed around Harry as he worked.

"Harry probably knows."

He glanced up at his name.

"Harry probably knows what?" He asked.

"We were talking about how we're going to get to France." Michael said. "Do you know?"

Harry considered it. "I imagine… That we'll use a portkey inspired system. Bend the space between us and Beauxbatons, then arrive in Cannes."

"Would that work?" Su asked, intrigued.

"It's what I would do if I had to move something as massive as the train."

"But you don't actually know," Michael confirmed. "You didn't hear anything from the Headmaster."

Harry shook his head. There was a whistle and the train began to pull out of the station.

"I suppose we'll find out soon," Ernie concluded and Harry dived back into his work. There were many runes that needed to be carved to make a pensieve, and it was both meticulous and painstakingly slow work.

The train started chugging south, and he figured they would probably head in that direction as far as the tracks would allow, but the view outside was getting faster and faster until it was blurring.

"It looks like you were right about bending the distance. It looks like the view from the night bus," Daphne mused.

Harry just nodded.

The countryside flew by until they reached Dover and, to the wonder and amazement of those on board, left the tracks behind completely, taking to the air to clear the channel. The wheels ran over invisible airborne tracks, once again accelerating to ludicrous speeds until they touched down again in Calais.

Assuming Beauxbatons was indeed near Cannes, they still likely had more distance to travel until they reached their destination than they normally would to Hogwarts.

Onboard, Harry watched the French countryside become less soggy, like England, then drier and brighter, with acres and acres of vineyards, before they reached the southern humidity. The warm mediterranean air was enough that several members of the compartment left to change from their warmer, mid-autumn, English clothing.

Durmstrang was supposed to be from the far north, perhaps in Siberia, even; a permafrost bitten place of the world. Harry could only imagine how students used to that climate would have to adjust for the warmth of southern France. Harry had already cast a cooling charm on himself and they hadn't even reached their destination yet.

The train reached Cannes and didn't slow as it once again lifted itself off its tracks and charged across the city, over a beach and towards the ocean. From there, it blitzed across the surface of the Golfe de la Napoule, throwing tons of water into the air.

There, south of Îlot de I'llon, was a fifth Island that Harry had never seen on any map.

"There it is!" Su Li excitedly exclaimed.

The Island was low, and there was a peaceful looking school of blue and white amongst palm trees and rocky beaches.

"Durmstrang beat us here." Ernie pointed out the window. There was old-style three-masted galleon sitting in the water near the island. It looked Scandanavian in origin, if the intricate Nordic scrollwork along the forecastle's rails was anything to go on, although Harry couldn't profess to be an expert on ships.

The train glided up the rocky beach to a pre-cleared patch and coiled around itself like a snake until the caboose linked to the conductor car, giving the express the appearance of a bright red ouroboros.

"Well it's time to show off how impressive Hogwarts is to the other schools and remind them why England is top dog," Daphne announced with a smirk as she stood.

That seemed to be the signal for the rest of them to get up as well, and they filed out along with the other years to meet before the Headmaster.

"Now then, all changed? Very good." Dumbledore looked out amongst them and nodded, speaking very seriously. "Remember that your actions will reflect upon Great Britain and Hogwarts. You would do well to conduct yourselves accordingly." Then in a much more jovial tone, said, "Off we go."

Beauxbatons seemed to be divided into separate buildings, with spacious courtyards and gardens strewn between. The buildings themselves were all no more than three stories tall and each structure contained so much glass that they looked as though they may shatter, they seemed so delicate and dainty compared to the hard stone of Hogwarts.

The Beauxbatons students had assembled before a great circular structure in the middle of the campus. It was a was a tall building, the second tallest on the island, with an arcing ceiling.

A monstrously tall woman stood and greeted the Hogwarts Headmaster with a hug, and Dumbledore turned to greet another man with yellow teeth who shook Dumbledore's hands in both of his.

Harry took the opportunity to glance around the forum-like courtyard. There were light blue uniforms mixed with harsher grey, almost military-esque ones, which clearly divided the Durmstrang students from the rest. The Durmstrang students seemed to have dressed for the occasion, but Harry could see some discomfort in their posture. The airy, silk uniforms of Beauxbatons couldn't have been better suited for the climate.

Several students were glancing at Harry, having spotted him and recognizing his fame out of all the student from Hogwarts. Just as many were staring at a strong jawed boy in a Durmstrang uniform. Harry absently thumbed his wand.

As much attention as Harry and the Durmstrang boy received, more was being given to an upper year girl in a Beauxbatons uniform. Harry didn't recognize her in the slightest, nor the Durmstrang boy. Perhaps they were both famous.

Harry looked to his right to see Michael gaping at the girl. Harry hit his side. The boy sent an angry look Harry's away before giving him a murmured, "thanks." Harry just nodded, examining what he could see of a large building across from the dining hall.

He could see soft warm light inside, illuminating rows and rows of books in long shelves behind tall glowing windows.

 _I'll see you later._

He thought in the direction of the books.

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All the students were sorted inside into different tables by age, one for each year. There seemed to be more students who attended Beauxbatons than Hogwarts. Though, Harry was willing to bet that was because they pulled from Spain and central Europe, rather than because of a greater magical population.

The United Kingdom contained a third of the magical population of Europe, due in no small part from the fact they had been sheltered from Grindelwald's wars on the mainland.

Harry took a seat at the fourth-year table and others from his year sat around him. They received several odd looks as the French remained standing until the tall woman herself had taken a seat.

 _Cultural differences._

Harry shrugged it off.

The Headmistress gave a short speech that Harry ignored, welcoming the Hogwarts and Durmstrang delegation and announcing that the Triwizard tournament would begin after the meal. It was explained that Dumbledore would be drawing an age line around an artifact called the Goblet of Fire. It was _that_ which captivated Harry's interest through the speech.

Harry eyed the Goblet. It was ordinary looking, if it wasn't so large, at least, but it was filled with blue and white flames that clung hungrily to the otherwise unassuming wood.

The cup would choose its champions through some means by Halloween, meaning that there was quite some time to decide if one wished to enter the tournament.

The Durmstrang Headmaster swept his students out of the hall with a flourish, and Harry only barely watched the man go. Instead he watched, fascinated, as Dumbledore traced a golden line around the enchanted wooden chalice.

A French boy at the table seemed to notice him staring.

" _Going to try to find a way into the tournament?_ He asked in his native tongue.

Harry shook his head. " _No. It's not for me._ "

" _I suppose excitement and danger isn't the Brits' cup of tea,_ " another boy joked, earning laughter from the Beauxbatons group.

Harry ignored them. The tournament would demonstrate Harry's power and present him with challenges, but he preferred Dumbledore's almost quiet and contemplative achievements and air much more than that of some violent school student.

 _Besides, I killed a Basilisk, what would you know about danger?_

He thought absently at the French boy.

"I 'eard that the 'ogwarts students were placed in ze beginners dueling class." Some girl said obnoxiously from further down the table.

One of the other students bumped the rude girl and Harry went back to ignoring them.

Dumbledore stood from the high table and began gathering his students, starting at the seventh-year table. Harry stood up when he saw that and slowly his peers followed his lead. His eyes never left the Goblet until a tall, lithe man approached him. The Beauxbatons students began to disseminate and take their leave, and the man was met with several polite mutterings of ' _Professor'_ as he passed.

" _Mr. Potter?_ " The man greeted. Harry took his eyes off his target towards the man. He had aged features, but was dressed in clean silken robes. " _I am Professor Du'Mont_."

Harry took the man's hand. " _The Deputy Hedmaster? It's a pleasure._ "

" _I was speaking to the Albus about some of your accomplishments, I teach Herbology, you see._ "

 _Ah._

" _I wanted to welcome you into my office if you ever wanted to discuss my subject with me._ " The Professor Du'mont finished.

" _Thank you, Sir. I just may take you up on that,_ " Harry returned respectfully.

Du'Mont smiled and Harry bid him a good evening.

Susan leaned towards Harry, "When did you make the time to learn French?"

Harry frowned feeling confused. "We had almost a year to learn."

"Yeah but weren't you busy, you know, writing stuff?"

Harry just shrugged and followed the other Hogwarts students out of the hall and back to the trains.

Harry had a lot of work to do, really, and he couldn't wait to get started.

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Harry hadn't slept that night; he'd been too busy.

However, early Saturday mornings, after the third-year classes, was when the dueling class for fourth-years took place, and Harry wasn't going to miss that.

A courtyard to the west of the main Hall, far from the library, was where the class was held and he made his way over to it in time to see Ernie get trounced by a second year Durmstrang student. Daphne had already finished and was waiting on a bench towards the outside of the courtyard.

Harry watched the teaching referee, a grim-faced man who was taking care of several duels at once, calling the session to a close in time for the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons student in the next session, Harry's session, to arrive.

"You didn't come and watch me duel?" Daphne asked.

Harry frowned. "Did you win?"

She frowned and looked away.

"Maybe it's better that I didn't see, then." Harry laughed lightly and stood.

He met in a huddle of other students around the referee who quickly went over the rules for the duels they would have in class. It was fairly standard, disarming and stunning and being knocked out of bounds would count as an end to any duel.

Harry was quickly put up against a Durmstrang student who eyed Harry carefully. Had he been informed about Harry's magical successes? Or was he just a cautious duelist? Harry wasn't sure, but he lined up across from his opponent and bowed deeply. The boy reciprocated politely and, at the signal, began by incanting and hurling a disarming spell and a stunner Harry's way.

Harry silently blocked both spells with a shield charm, causing the other's eyebrows to raise.

Harry dipped gently across his opponent's mind and felt the teen's weariness.

Harry cast a disarming spell followed by a knockback hex in quick succession, quickly flowing into a light chain he had practiced, setting his opponent on the back foot.

" _Protego_!' The other boy cried out to shield himself as Harry sent half a dozen spells across the distance in just two seconds.

Harry pointed out of bounds and cast the yanking spell he had designed, the effect pulling objects around the spell towards where it impacted.

The Durmstrang student had been expecting a blow _against_ his shields, not the opposite, and was promptly lifted right off his feet.

It pulled Harry's opponent out of bounds and to the ground, marking an end to Harry's first duel, a disappointing one at that.

Due to the number of dueling pits available, there were only so many duels able to occur at any time. Harry stepped out to allow the next to take place, walking back over to Daphne. From the look of things, she had been watching quite intently.

"You look disappointed."

She could always read him.

"He couldn't challenge me," Harry informed her.

"When'd you start casting silently?"

Harry just shrugged and watched some of the duels around him.

A platinum haired girl in a Beauxbatons uniform sent a Durmstrang boy to the ground without much effort. Her second victory over Durmstrang, if Harry remembered correctly.

"See something you like, Harry?" Daphne had a challenging tone.

"The Durmstrang students have four years of dueling experience correct? And Beauxbatons students have one. So how did she beat them?" He pointed at the students the Beauxbatons girl had defeated.

"Harry, are you serious?" He looked back at Daphne and frowned lightly. She grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Could it be I know something you don't?"

Harry chuckled. "It's always possible."

"Go duel her, find out for yourself," She said.

Susan had lingered with Daphne to watch some matches. "You _want_ him to duel her? But sh-"

"-Don't ruin this for me." Daphne hushed the other girl and then turned back to him, still smiling. "And don't you go peeking and find out."

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. She meant don't use legilimency to just find out, and Harry decided to play her game.

 _And why not?_

He asked himself.

He walked over to her.

" _Excuse me, Miss. I was wondering if I could challenge you as your next opponent?_ " Harry told the girl.

She had blue eyes and straight white teeth and her frame was wreathed in long very blonde hair that ran down almost to the middle of her back.

" _Oh, you must be the famous Harry Potter."_ The girl smiled. " _Gabrielle Delacour."_

She shook his hand.

" _Why would you want to duel me?_ " She asked.

" _You beat them, even when they_ should _have more experience than you._ " Harry explained emphasizing the word ' _should_ ' in French. " _I would very much like to find out why._ "

Her eyes glittered lightly.

" _Very well,_ " she said, then smiled. " _I always wanted to beat a celebrity._ "

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" _If you're unwilling to order the deaths of thousands of people, you're already off the list of potential great figures in history." - Dan Carlin_

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 **The first quote for this chapter is probably the most quintessential to this story which I have stated so far.**

 _You can ask me questions at my forum and I may have answered your reviews there already._

 **WG**


	13. Humpty Dumpty

**Beta: Digitize27**

 _I answer questions and respond to reviews at my forum._

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" _And what he greatly thought, he nobly dared." - Homer_

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Harry stepped opposite the girl, Gabrielle, and bowed as custom dictated. She gave an elegant curtsey in return, wearing a smirk that belied the intrigue glittering in her pale eyes.

He eyed her wand; Laurel, by the look of it. He was no expert, but he had taken some time to study a bit of wand-lore after the summer of their third year. He was mostly guessing, it could easily be another light and rustic colored wood like oak, or perhaps cherry, even.

He knew the peaceful garden would only remain so for a moment, so he took a deep calming breath and inhaled the smell of roses to ready himself.

Her wand flicked up to start things off, sending out a quick stunner followed by a fairly advanced animation of a nearby bush that caused it to stand up and lumber towards him, flailing branches and roots like whips. It stood, nearly two meters tall, and swung roses and thorns at him with every wave of its spindly limbs. She wasn't done, however, and followed up with a disarming spell. Harry deflected it back towards her, trying and failing to imitate Dumbledore's own elegant style of deflection.

Dumbledore had lightly touched spells and sent them buzzing away effortlessly, Harry required much greater effort and focus to redirect spellfire.

While she shielded herself from her own spell, Harry turned his attention to her animation; he had considered an impressive application of Grindelwald's air conjuration, one which would have reduced the plant to shredded leaves and splinters, but he ruled it far too taxing.

Instead he incanted and let a little Dementor out of him.

" _Imputresco_."

As the hobbling mess approached it withered and turned to dust, the effect speeding up as it stepped closer until it was a pile of grey ash.

Ms. Delacour raised an eyebrow at his first verbal incantation and Harry used, the brief distraction to follow up with his epicenter spell against her shield. Dust and rock flew her way in clumps, enough to blind her, before she recovered and sidestepped, barely dodging the _stupefy_ that would have put her down.

She twisted like a fencer, or perhaps a ballerina, through his spell chain. Her movements were confident but her expression was far from it.

She flicked her wand and pirouetted into her own rapid spell chain, her movements maintaining that same grace. It looked like she was dancing as she flicked her wand around her body and towards him, before twirling around again and firing off a few more in rapid succession.

It was an inhuman grace, and Harry found it almost hypnotic.

Almost.

Harry sheltered himself behind a barrier that covered his body, a shimmering half egg like shape coming into place before him.

She waved her wand again and he was nearly caught off guard when roots shot from the ground to clamber over him. They wrapped around his legs all the way to his waist, catching his hands, shoulders and part of his back.

All at once they tried to pull him down, attempting to render him immobile and open to her attacks. It would have worked too, against most anybody, and he was reminded rather forcibly exactly why he was here.

He needed the push, the challenge. He had grown in response to the obstacle the Dementors had presented; necessity being the mother of invention, and all that. It had driven him to new heights. The piece of magic he was about to perform was probably the most difficult he had ever attempted.

Harry inhaled heat and exhaled a long trail of wispy vapor, causing Gabrielle to freeze, metaphorically. Her animated roots on the other hand, froze far more literally. Frostbite quickly took hold in the plant, decay setting in wherever it touched him as the water inside rapidly froze, rupturing cells on a microscopic level. His Dementor imitation became ever-more complete as he grasped hold of the winter storm in his chest. He followed by waving his wand, almost negligently shattering the already disintegrating roots.

Hoarfrost spread across the ground at his feet as heat was sucked from the air, sketching glittering patterns in the ground that expanded inexorably outwards. Harry could even smell a touch of ozone, like in the moments right after a violent storm.

He cut the connection before it could exhaust him and found himself panting hard all the same. He could feel sweat run down his back from the sheer focus that had taken. It had been draining, but the result had turned a near-certain defeat into a chance for victory.

What worried him the most was that the struggle required to summon that power was nothing compared to the difficulty of letting it go.

Ideally, he would like to be able to maintain the disintegration effect, the cold, and the misery that Dementors could exude all at once while dueling. It would make him a formidable opponent that even talented, trained, adult wizards would have to take seriously to survive.

For now though, he could manage it only a little. Short bursts in a short radii around him, but no more than that.

His opponent still hadn't moved in her shock, and Harry touched her mind to find… a defense? It was certainly something he hadn't encountered before.

He recoiled, hoping she hadn't noticed the intrusion, but his touch, as always, had been feather light. No more than seeing the outermost layer of the web of thoughts behind her eyes. Harry could have pushed deeper, in all likelihood, and perhaps avoided ripping her mind raw, but that was… excessive, and risky. As were his other more sinister Dementor-esque qualities.

It was just a practise duel, after all. Right?

Besides, nobody needed to know that about him and he didn't need those abilities right now.

 _Show me what you can really do._

Harry thought in her direction. So far she had been impressive, certainly his most impressive dueling partner to date, but she hadn't displayed anything exceptional, except perhaps, her inhuman dodging.

Her face was elongating slightly, or was that his imagination?

 _"You think you can just toy with me!?"_ She hissed at him in French.

 _Yeah, kinda, at the moment at least. Unless you can push me more._

He didn't say that, for obvious reasons.

Her body seemed to be generating heat around her, the air shimmering and warping above her like hot tarmac. She managed to genuinely surprise him when she abruptly summoned fire in her free hand and hurled it in his direction, even as she cast with her wand.

 _Pyrokinesis!_

Harry thought excitedly. This was much more real, much more challenging. Between the mental defenses and this... She was a lot like _him_!

He wasn't sure how he stacked up to a pyrokinetic, and he wasn't sure how she stacked up to any other pyrokinetic. Her abilities were unique and special and that made him wary.

She shot a tripping spell, body bind, and a punching hex in rapid succession; more heated than her previous spells, but not all that dangerous.

The referee looked ready to step in but for now the duel appeared under control by both parties. Besides, when was the last time the poor coach had ever seen a duel between a pyrokinetic and whatever the hell Harry was? Never. Harry really couldn't blame the man for letting it continue, besides, Harry didn't want it to stop either.

He would have liked to nullify her heat with his effect, challenge her pyrokinesis directly with his cryokinesis, but he had used that fairly recently and needed to catch his breath. In reality it was the disintegration of the roots which had been more exhausting, but he could afford to take the time and recover. Harry stepped sideways and stretched the angles where she could cast spells to their limit.

He deflected spells away and avoided the fire she threw, while slipping past those he was confident would miss.

He saw her smirk and throw a fireball towards him. It rushed past him, only to pause in mid-air. A sudden shout had the fireball detonating just past his ear, a clear miss turned into a trap.

Harry inhaled the heat rather than let it burn him. When the roar in his ears subsided, he heard shouting.

Daphne had stood up and was looking at him in shock. Had he told her about his cyrokinesis and his study of Thermomancy? Surely he had, and even if he hadn't, she knew he published something about Thermomancy recently.

Harry touched her mind.

 _I'm alright._

He told her mentally through impressions and not words.

She gave a surprised start as Harry looked away.

The referee had stepped closer, his eyes looking panicked but when he saw Harry was uninjured he stopped.

" _Are you unharmed? Do you need to cancel the duel?_ "

Harry shook his head. " _She didn't touch me, Sir._ "

The man muttered something. " _...children… Very well. Start again when you are ready._ "

Harry nodded and turned back to Ms. Delacour. She appeared a little ashen, but her anger was still there, simmering under the surface. He presumed she hadn't meant for things to go so far and was glad he wasn't hurt, but she clearly wasn't willing to let the perceived slight go unpunished.

That wasn't quite good enough, if he wanted her off-balance then Harry needed her _pissed._

Harry lobbed his reversing spell at her. It struck her and spun her around, then he knocked her into the dirt with another lazy flick.

She stood up frantically and turned towards him with eyes full of fury. She wiped the dirt from her face and Harry saw the heat that had died out reawaken.

Harry waved his left hand and struck her with his wandless magic as he had done to Malfoy in second year. Then waved his wand to pull the air into striking her back.

Grindelwald's spell was much easier if you didn't focus the air so much, and with a wand in hand.

She staggered to her hands and knees and looked up at him with unrestrained malice, all trace of the previous worry gone. She stood back up, her movements were more elegant again, now that she was focused, less surprised and less panicked. Her face was indeed elongating; some kind of transformation? Her features were taut in concentration.

Harry felt something touch his mind. It was a lance, full of emotions. He shattered the probe with pitiable ease but eyed her more cautiously. He felt waves against him mind, lapping against his shore, smaller than the initial tsunami, but unable to breach his levees and flood his mind with foreign thoughts.

 _Legilimency? Surprising._

She was waiting, but for what? Harry cocked his head curiously.

Could it be that she didn't feel him smash her mental attack? What was she? Was she like him?

 _Oh…_

Harry laughed out loud, unable to help himself.

The girl frowned at the unexpected reaction, any confidence she might have gained, shaken.

The pyromancy, the weak and undirected Legilimency, the transformation, the grace.

" _You're a veela._ " Harry laughed again. He had started to worry; started to think that perhaps that she was like him; the mind arts, the control, all of it was familiar, even if not the same; it had been enough to get him thinking. But in the end… " _Did you think that would work on me? That I'd just fall at your feet?_ "

" _Do you think this is a joke?!_ " She exclaimed, part surprised and part furious.

Harry began to charge himself as she managed to gather herself once more.

She was exceptional to be sure, but she hadn't worked for what she had the way he had. Her Legilimency was a pale imitation of the true thing. Her defenses were a mere result of her nature, rather than of her dedication.

Her pyrokinesis was interesting, as was her transformation, but it was clear now how she was able to beat the Durmstrang boys.

It was impressive, and her dueling was practiced to the point that he was fairly certain she had had received additional instruction beyond what was taught here.

It was a well put together technique.

She hurled a fireball at him and he spun, twirling beneath the fireball even as he dashed sideways. As he moved left, he put as much distance between himself and her attack as possible, just in case she pulled that trick out again. How much control do pyrokinetics have? How do they compare to Veela? How does she sit within that spectrum?

Harry had no way of knowing, so he erred towards caution.

Harry let the circuit in his chest complete, the capacitance he built releasing its stored energy; sparks ran down his left hand from his core even as he spun, current following his path. Electricity balled along his arms and arced between his fingers and his teeth as he felt the charges flow.

As he came out of his spin to stand up straight, he pointed his left hand at her and the voltage snapped closed. He aimed high, for her right shoulder and not towards her heart. Her Veela heritage would protect her from burns, but not from the amps.

The bolt struck her dead centre and she was lifted from her feet, to be thrown rolling out of bounds. Her body was steaming slightly, as was Harry's left hand.

His powers over the elements were good, he had modeled them after the Indian-God-Kings themselves, but he knew his abilities still paled in comparison to their power.

He could charge and release some electricity, while Indra could become a human bolt of lightning and lay waste to mountains. He could pull at the air, but not so quickly that it formed a vacuum, generating light and heat even as it pulled the entire population of cities inside out. That ability belonged to Vayu, Queen of the-Open-Spaces-of-the-World.

No, his elemental powers weren't so awesome and he knew that he would never match those legends, but his abilities could be impressive, even if they would always fall short of mythical.

However little it was, it was still enough to win.

Harry watched Gabrielle get to her feet, glaring daggers at him even as her friends rushed to her to help her up. Harry saw that he had burned through part of her silk robes but her skin beneath was fine, as he suspected it would be.

" _Are you alright?_ " Harry asked stepping closer.

She looked at him furiously. " _Fine, thanks._ " She managed through clenched teeth.

" _I'm sorry for baiting you,"_ he said earnestly. _"I just wanted to see what you could do._ "

" _You attacked me!_ "

" _You started throwing fire around,_ " Harry reminded gently. " _I just wanted to know more. You were impressive."_

" _Thanks,"_ he heard her mutter angrily. _"I guess you saw everything you needed then._ " There was something disappointed in her tone as her friends escorted her away.

Harry shrugged it off and walked back towards Daphne, thanking the awestruck judge as he paced past.

"Was this all part of your plan?" Susan asked Daphne.

"You have to admit it was funny," Daphne said, smiling. "She had no idea why her Veela wiles weren't working." She paused as Harry approached, glaring at him somewhat accusingly. "You didn't mention the cold."

"You knew that I published something on Thermomancy recently," Harry countered with a shrug.

Daphne just sighed, looking resigned. The session was drawing to a close around them, but Harry wasn't going to wait even that long, already heading off towards the Dining Hall.

"Where are you going?" Daphne asked.

"I want to see Dumbledore's age line," he said. "Then I'll probably take a look at the library."

"Does he ever relax?" Susan asked, looking at Daphne for an answer.

"Studying and practicing magic?" Daphne clarified. "For him, that _is_ relaxing."

"Doesn't he want to see Cannes?"

"Harry, want to go to Cannes?" Daphne asked him.

Harry shrugged.

"There you go," Daphne said, turning back to Susan. "I'll probably get him to apparate me over with him later but he's on a mission right now."

"He can apparate too?" Susan exclaimed. "That's rubbish!"

"I'd say you get used to it, but you really don't."

Inside there were dozens of students sitting around staring at the goblet, including the rest of their Hogwarts year mates.

"Anyone put their names in?"

"Diggory and Spinnet that I've seen," Ernie said with a nod. "All the Durmstrang students too, including Victor Krum."

Harry walked past them towards the golden shimmering line which surrounded the goblet.

"If you think of a way around it, you'll tell me, right Harry?" Michael asked. "For academics of course."

"You could probably walk right through it if you had no intention of putting your name in," Harry murmured, examining the line. "If it had been made by anyone else but Dumbledore that is."

 _Almost anyone else, really._

Harry extended a hand and met a barrier. He followed it around and saw it formed a cylinder of resistant magic that wrapped around the goblet.

A boy in a Beauxbatons approached talking with his friends and holding a steaming goblet of red liquid.

" _It's brilliant! How did you have time to brew an aging potion?_ "

" _It was easy, I just had to get the ingredients from Professor Petit._ " Harry guessed that Professor Petit was the potions instructor. " _It really didn't take much convincing._ "

Harry stepped out of the way smiling slightly.

"What's going on?" Su asked.

"They're going to try an aging potion," Daphne said. "I think." She looked to Harry for confirmation and he nodded.

Had she really picked up French that fast? And he had thought _his_ powers were good.

"Will that work?" Michael looked interested.

"No," Harry said, now grinning.

He caught the attention of one of the boys' friends. "And 'ow would you know?" He said in accented English.

"You really think Dumbledore will be tricked by an aging potion?" Harry asked the older boy.

"Arrogant Englishman." The boy snapped back. "Dumbledore 'asn't accomplished anything in decades. Ze old man is slipping."

"You're really sure it won't work?" Michael asked again, eyes glancing between the potion and the line.

"Yes," Harry answered, just as succinctly.

The crowd chanted for the boy with the potion to drink it and he did to the cheers of the hall. The boy gave a smirk and a cheeky grin with a wink before walking confidently through the line.

When he wasn't thrown back immediately he was met with applause from the hall. Michael glanced up at Harry, his expression doubting.

" _It seems that Harry Potter isn't the next great wizard after all."_ The boy announced mockingly from within the circle. _"Boy-Who-Lived, indeed._ "

Harry merely raised an eyebrow.

The boy gave him an arrogant look and smirked before facing back towards the Goblet, but his expression turned into surprise as he was catapulted head over heels out of the circle, nearly a dozen meters away. He landed harshly and coughed from the impact; winded.

Then his hair started to change color, shifting from a rich black to an elderly white. A ludicrous, almost Dumbeldore-esque beard began to grow on the boy's shaven face, the same snowy color. His friends closed around him while the rest of the hall laughed at the would-be-champion's expense.

Harry stepped back closer to the ward and ran his wand along it, taking careful measurements. He paused and did it again, repeating his process. He stepped back and shook his head.

"I read that no ward is foolproof, but I don't see anyone getting through that." He said to the Hogwarts fourth years.

"Could you overpower it?" Daphne asked him.

He frowned. "Maybe. If I had time. But certainly not without alerting Dumbledore, I'd probably bring the hall down before I breached that ward."

 _Maybe if I used blood magic..._

" _Excuse me._ " A girl in the grey uniform of Durmstrang walked up to him. " _How did you know that wouldn't work?_ " She pointed towards were the boy with the beard was being moved to the Beauxbatons equivalent of the hospital wing, in all probability.

" _If you can think of it, Dumbledore likely has too,_ " Harry explained. " _I'm not saying he doesn't make mistakes, but they are rare._ "

" _So, there's no way through?_ "

" _There might be one…_ " Harry stroked his jaw. " _Not because Dumbledore wouldn't have thought of it, but because I'm not sure how he could have warded against it. Mind you, that doesn't mean he couldn't do it, I just don't know how he would while also making it so everyone else could enter who should._ "

" _How?_ " Harry turned to look at Daphne for a moment.

" _You could use a memory charm on yourself until you believed that you are seventeen, but anything could cause you to be reminded how old you really are and cause the charm to fail and you will have accomplished nothing. Not to mention mind magic is incredibly dangerous._ " Harry shot the last part towards the girl who asked him, rather than for Daphne's sake.

"Er-and for those of us who are just learning French?" Michael asked.

Harry repeated his theory for them again.

"But who could cast a charm like that?" Su asked. She shook her head. "It would be stupid to do."

"Harry could." Daphne said. "Couldn't you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, but I won't," he asserted resolutely.

Harry stepped back, shaking his head, and made for the exit.

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The library was magnificent. When Grindelwald destroyed the old French school, he had burned the library with it, a priceless collection, something Harry held against him.

However, there was one French wizard magnanimous and wealthy enough to replace it. The Library had been named after the donor in question.

 _Bibliothéque du Flamel_ was printed above large doors just opposite of the Dining Hall. It had two floors with large glass windows that stretched from floor to ceiling and, in some places, across that, too. The shelves were stacked high around tables nestled between stacks.

It was by far more modern than the Hogwarts library, which made sense considering it was built almost a millennium later.

There were even small rooms on the second floor which one could occupy and use to study, cut off from the rest of the library in what wasn't quite a private room, given the windows, but was more secluded.

Harry took an unoccupied room. There was a sign hanging on one of the windows of the room.

It translated to ' _Willing to Share_ '. Harry stepped through and noted the other side read ' _Please Don't Disturb._ ' Harry flipped the sign at once so that the ' _Please Don't Disturb_ ' faced outward and opened his journal, setting out the books he was studying.

He missed his room.

He pulled the first pile towards him, two of the books Professor McGonagall loaned him on Animagi, _The Mechanics of Human Transfiguration_ and _The Animagus Process_. There were also two others she had loaned him; _Arithmancy for Inhuman Transformations_ and _Modalities of Mankind_ , but they were… well they were beyond him.

None of the books contained the knowledge he sought about what happened to a human soul during an animagus transformation, though _Modalities of Mankind_ might come close in terms of how the mind changed during the process.

He began to take careful notes from the two books he started with for several hours, before he switched tracks towards _Lebendig eine Katagorisch Studie_. He wanted to finish it soon so he could return it to the Headmaster. He had borrowed it for most of a year now.

He also wanted to finish the things he had started so that he could fully take advantage of the French Library while he was here.

He felt Daphne's familiar mind approaching, and it didn't take her long to find him.

"You could have told me where you were going," She said after she opened the door and sat down.

"I said I was going to see the age line and then come here."

"The library is pretty large, Harry."

"Fair enough," he admitted. "Sorry."

"Will you teach me how to deflect spells like you were doing earlier?"

"I don't see why not."

"Oh yeah, and during your duel, you also told me that you were okay," she said, giving him a pointed yet almost coy look as she got to her point. When he shrugged she finished the thought. "With Legilimency."

Harry nodded but then frowned slightly. "I did. I probably shouldn't have."

She shook her head. "No, It's alright. I just didn't know you could do that. Legilimens could have entire conversations where they just think the words at each other."

"Well," he mused, "you don't want to actually _think_ the words. One of the core tenants of Augeomancy is that you should only deal with impressions."

"What do you mean?"

"Well let's say you were solving a problem. Do you want to narrate the problem, or do you want to just think through the solution for it? It's faster, and it can help you think faster. That's why it's part of Augeomancy. Even in your own mind, working only with impressions rather than with words is more efficient, this sort of telepathy is no different. I didn't think at you that I wasn't hurt with words, I just let you know that I was alright. I skipped over language entirely."

"So, you could explain this concept to me even faster if you just thought it at me."

Harry nodded.

"Have you ever done something like this before?"

"Only with Dumbledore."

"Do you have telepathic conversations with the Headmaster often?" She sounded slightly nervous.

Harry shook his head. "It was a bit of a special circumstance. It was when Hermione was paralyzed by the Basilisk. When I discovered what Slytherin's monster was, I had to tell Dumbledore as fast as possible."

She looked slightly relieved. She bit her lip and there was a sort of tense silence for a long moment. "You know… you could do it with me... talk to me like that, I mean." She looked at him from the seat next to him with big blue eyes.

"You're not worried about me invading your privacy?" Harry asked.

She shook her head without hesitation. "Just think about how useful it would be."

Harry looked at Daphne for a long moment. "It'll probably be okay, if it's used sparingly."

"You think it could be damaging?"

"Maybe." He eyed her carefully.

"Well, that only works if you need to talk to me, what if I need to talk to you? Then you'd have to be in my mind all the time."

"You shouldn't get used to me being in your head. It would be counterproductive to learning Occlumency."

 _And this is starting to have shades of Ginny Weasley…_

"Alright, fine," she relented. "But you'll still use it to talk to me occasionally, right?"

"Just not all the time," Harry affirmed.

 _That can't hurt, can it?_

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Daphne had him apparate them to the Cannes the next day. The city was a muggle tourist trap, but there were plenty of restaurants too, as well as fine sandy beaches to relax on.

The city also had a hidden magical area, like Diagon Alley in London. Though, it was much more modern looking than its almost Medieval-esque counterpart. French Magicals simply had to live closer to muggles and there was no real pureblood bigotry, Grindelwald had caused too much damage, killed too many people for the witches and wizards to care about blood status in all but the most fringe elements, making them closer to their muggle counterparts.

In order for mainland European magical society to survive they had to overthrow many such ideas.

The systematic slaughter of continental Europe's magical aristocracy likely hadn't hurt either.

Witches and wizards in Cannes du Magique wore robes, sure, but for every wizard in formal robes there were two more in jeans.

"Do muggles really wear this stuff? There's nothing there." Daphne pointed to a clothing store with mannequins that were displaying some skirts that left some material to be desired.

Harry just shrugged, he couldn't care less about clothing.

"We should probably buy something for Tracey."

"You think she wants a tourist knick-knack?" Harry asked.

"I know she does." Daphne reached into her robe and pulled out a letter and branded it towards him. "She told me so. She says 'hi' by the way."

"Does she want something muggle or magical?"

"Both probably." Daphne grumbled. "What the hell do people get in France for friends?" She asked herself.

"Wine?" Harry guessed. "Cheese? Is Olive Oil Italian, or French?"

"That's just stereotypical." She huffed at him. "You know… since you can apparate, we could probably go visit them on a Hogsmeade weekend."

"You want me to sidelong apparate you across a continent?"

"Too dangerous?"

"I wouldn't pretend it was safe, certainly."

She settled on a muggle postcard. "In my defense, I'm sure I'm going to send her more things."

It was midday when Harry apparated them back to the pier at Beauxbatons, the only place where one could do such a thing on campus.

Harry made to move towards the library, but Daphne caught his arm.

"Nuh uh. You agreed to help me with hex deflection. I refuse to be beaten by some third-year again."

Harry taught her the technique and theory behind spell deflection down in the clearing that the Hogwarts Train had settled in.

"It's not about hurling spells away from you, though that's part of it. You need to reverse it, to change the intent as you do it."

"You could just show me how." She tapped her temple with her wand.

"Sparing use, Daphne, sparing." Besides, if _he_ had to learn it the hard way, there was no way he was going to let her cheat so easily.

He spent half an hour jabbing stinging hexes at her and she would try and deflect them. He didn't hold back near as much as he had when working Neville over last year. Daphne wouldn't appreciate him handling her with safety gloves.

By the end of the impromptu session she was sweating from the exertion and panting hard.

"Need a brake?"

She gave him a half-hearted glare but didn't respond, forced to lean of a tree at the edge of the clearing for support. Harry counted that as a victory.

"I really… don't see how… you do this… so easily," she gasped between breaths. "It's not like you… had practice… did you?"

"I had the memory, and I did practice as much as I was able. Besides, magic doesn't exhaust me as quickly as it does you." He paused to look at her drooped form. "Evidently."

"Brag about it more, why don't you?" She teased, smirking.

"You asked." He smiled back.

She adjourned to the showers and Harry made his way into the dormitory. He dug around in his trunk until he found the pensieve he had completed on the first night. He took a seat on his bed, dropped the memory into the bowl, and put his face into it.

The duel was the same as ever. Magnificent and beautiful, almost.

Like a battle between Gods.

And when the opening volley destroyed lesser witches and wizards as a mere side effect, it really drove that point home.

 _Soon._

Harry thought.

 _I'll join them soon._

Harry watched the duel rage and put aside his awe. Instead he watched for Grindelwald's honeds technique and Dumbledore's tireless, impenetrable defense. Two Centennial wizards, born in the same century.

Just like Voldemort and himself.

The thought brought him back to who he was bound to. He remembered examining Gabrielle Delacour's wand yesterday and looked down at his own. Holly and Phoenix Feather.

Voldemort's twin.

He felt a deep pang of fear and remembered his boggart.

Many people were afraid of Voldemort, but how many were afraid of Tom Riddle? Or at least the idea of Tom Riddle. Maybe Harry was the only one.

There was no way it was all a coincidence.

He shook his head and cast the thoughts aside and tried to return to the duel.

He gave up after a few minutes of not really absorbing what he was seeing, withdrawing and placing his wand at his temple. He hesitated. He had felt compelled to view his confrontation in the Chamber of Secrets, but now he was decidedly less certain.

He lowered his wand.

 _It doesn't matter anyway. Besides, the Basilisk might still be dangerous, even as a memory._

Harry pulled out Grindelwald's paper and set his quill to it, only to frown. Despite their brief interaction, or perhaps because of it, he still didn't trust Grindelwald enough to ask him about Dumbledore, or his more pressing worries regarding the soul.

He lowered his quill too.

 _I feel... trapped._

He decided.

Before he could explore that further he felt a familiar mind approaching him rather quickly for its usual pace. He put Grindelwald's paper back in Daphne's box hurriedly. He turned at once towards the dormitory door where there was a polite knock.

"Come in Headmaster." He smirked lightly at turning the Headmaster's own trick around.

The wizard stepped in with a calm look on his face that belied his authority and self-assured strength. It was the face of a sorcerer.

"Harry, I'm afraid I need you to come with me. There's been accident and it seems that there are questions you can answer."

Harry frowned and stood from the bed he had been resting on.

Dumbledore's eyes had none for their usual mirth. They shone but held no twinkle. Harry had only seen such expression on Dumbledore's face a few times. He could count the incidents in question on one hand with fingers left over.

Harry followed the Headmaster to a low building on the more southern side of the campus.

The building had few windows but there was a caduceus in front of the door, making the purpose of the building obvious.

Harry stepped in to find Madam Maxime, Highmaster Karkaroff, a girl in a red uniform, another girl in similar colors in one of the beds which lined the hall, and a nimble looking witch of short stature whose uniform marked her as a Mediwitch.

 _"That's him, Highmaster. He told me to do it,"_ she said in German, and he recognized her as the one who asked him about the age line.

 _"You didn't,"_ Harry replied in the same language. He felt shocked and looked back towards the girl in the bed.

The bedridden girl was motionless.

Surely no one was so stupid?

 _"Boy!"_ The Highmaster snarled. _"You confess to a role in this madness?"_ The Highmaster sounded furious.

"Per'aps zis discussion should be more open." Madam Maxime cut in. "Mr Potter, we 'ave 'eard Ms. Faere's side of ze story. We should like to hear your own."

"Why don't you start from after your popular duel with Ms. Delacour yesterday, until you departed from the Dining Hall, Harry," Dumbledore added.

"I went from the dueling pits to the Dining Hall with Daphne and Susan. I wanted to have a look at your age line, headmaster. I had never seen one before and I wanted to examine it. Once I arrived I saw someone, who I assume attends Beauxbatons based on their uniform, attempt to cross it using an ageing potion. I predicted that it wouldn't work, and was proven correct. Afterwards a girl in a Durmstrang uniform asked me how I knew the potion wouldn't work. She asked me if I could think of a way around the ward."

Harry paused for a moment.

"And?" Madam Maxime pressed.

"I hypothesized that if you could use a memory charm to fool yourself regarding your age, then you could fool the age line."

"Is that accurate to your description Ms Faere?" Dumbledore turned towards the girl.

 _"I don't speak English,"_ she said, sounding more nervous. Being addressed by the most powerful wizard in the world would do that. _"And only a little French…"_

If she spoke German, then it may be safe to conclude that Durmstrang was in Germany. Though, if pinning down the school's location was so easy, then it would be public knowledge by now. Perhaps it was just a ruse. Make people think it was in Germany when it was elsewhere.

Harry repeated what he had said in German for her.

"I was not aware you had progressed so far with German, Harry." Dumbledore said. _"Does that match your description of events? Ms. Faere?"_

 _"More or less, he said that you could use a memory charm on yourself so that you believed that you were seventeen. After that, the ward should let you across."_

Harry had turned towards the other girl laying in the bed. _"And you actually attempted it?"_ He muttered incredulously.

"Harry, surely you wouldn't recommend something like this," Dumbledore cut in.

Harry shook his head. "I mentioned that mind magic is incredibly dangerous," He replied. "I didn't recommend it, I was just postulating." His eyes never left the victim. " _Will she recover?_ " He asked the mediwitch in French.

" _I'm not a mind healer,_ " she said. " _This is beyond my expertise._ "

"One of my students is in a critical condition," Karkaroff cut across. "Something must be done!"

"We need 'er legal guardians to authorize a mind 'ealer," Madam Maxime returned more calmly. "That is within your power, Igor."

"I am well aware of that, thank you Olympe." Karkaroff bit back. "I meant about him."

"Me?" Harry asked.

"Your experiment, your responsibility."

"Now Karkaroff-"

"I suppose it's only natural you would protect your star pupil, Dumbledore," The Highmaster interrupted.

"I never raised my wand to this girl, nor did I recommend performing such dangerous magic," Harry said heatedly. "I don't see how you can possibly blame this on me."

Faere was looking more and more lost, being perhaps the only person there who didn't speak English.

"I 'ave to agree. Mr. Potter did not actually cast ze spell. He cannot be guilty. Your student displayed poor judgement."

Karkaroff was clearly out voted and it looked like he knew it. There was something resentful in his eyes, however.

"Harry, your knowledge of mind magic is likely only surpassed by my own, here on this campus. What do you think about Ms Malachite's condition?"

He eyed the Headmaster oddly for bringing that secret to light here and now. He himself received some looks from those who spoke English.

"If the charm had merely rendered Ms Malachite comatose," he began stepping around to eye the girl in question, bringing his attention to the problem at hand. "Then we should expect to see some indicators of deep sleep. Rapid eye movement, twitching, et cetera." He glanced up towards those in the room and touched his jaw.

"She 'asn't moved," Madam Maxine informed him, sensing his question.

"Then she is likely brain-dead," Harry said bluntly. "Well beyond modern medicine. Her attempt to cross the ward killed her."

He could feel no consciousness from her.

"Harry, why don't you return to the train. If I'm not mistaken, you have classes early tomorrow." Dumbledore sounded mournful, but Harry suspected that he had merely confirmed the man's own suspicions.

"Yes Sir." He departed with one final look at the victim's body.

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Harry slept for only a few hours that night. Enough for him to get by, at least, before he donned his invisibility cloak and slipped out. He made his way towards the clinic and slowly pushed the door open.

The girl was still lying there.

Harry cast the person revealing charm to see if anyone was close by before kneeling down by the girl.

Without eye contact and in her current state he could get no more than the barest trace of consciousness from her, now that the room was emptied of all minds but theirs.

Which was good news.

She wasn't entirely brain-dead.

Harry pointed his wand at her. " _Legilimens._ "

Bright lights and a spider's web. Clusters of emotion and a loom of memories. Dark shadows cast by waves which lapped against her skull.

He dove.

There were glaring absences. Where in Ginny's mind magic hummed against certain cords, sealing them away, here there was that too, but also places where they had been torn.

It was a tragedy, but it was almost… beautiful, to behold.

Like the view of a hundred acres of scorched forest the day after a massive fire.

There was no need to fear traps laid in waiting by Tom Riddle, so Harry set himself to work.

He must have knelt for hours peeling away coverings and removing the rushed and unpracticed work of the memory charm.

Some sections… they were beyond recovery. Plain and simple. Ripped out rather than tucked away. It was sloppy work even on the cut off connections, so it was slow going.

Even if he put her back together the connections would be different. She would never be the same person.

 _Humpty Dumpty had a great fall..._

He must have knelt for hours because when he finally withdrew from her mind he saw sunlight reflecting across the surface of the Mediterranean through the few of the hospital's windows

He stood up and his joints popped. He cast another _Hominem Revelio_ and saw no one approaching. A quick Tempus revealed that it was six in the mourning. He had been at it for nearly five hours and he had made good progress, but the work yet to be done was staggering.

The intent of the memory charm had been to remove age, but age was so deeply rooted in her mind that it had to touch _everything_. Combine that with a badly cast charm and you were left with… this.

He estimated that it may take two dozen more hours to mend what could be mended. After that, they'd just have to see if she woke up at all.

Even if she did, it would likely take years to recover. Months of her life, permanently lost. Hours of surgery, all because of a four syllable spell.

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"Potter?" The Magical Zoology professor called his name for role, they were down by a pier which faced away from Cannes.

Beauxbatons didn't have anything like the forbidden forest to house its creatures, and his understanding was that most, if not all of the classes for the subject would be theoretical, rather than the practical ones he was used to at Hogwarts.

They sometimes had practical lessons here at Beauxbatons but they had to portkey out to the foot hills north of Cannes.

He had also heard that it was there that they kept a herd of Abraxan Horses.

He raised a hand. " _Here, ma'am._ "

She took a moment to look up from her list. " _You're the Dementor boy, aren't you?_ _Odd choice of study, don't you think?_ "

" _They were on the Hogwarts grounds._ " Harry shrugged. " _They chose me._ "

" _That means you can cast a patronus._ " She eyed him up and down with narrow, evaluating eyes. " _That's a fine, complex bit of magic there._ "

Harry nodded. " _It's crude, but it works._ "

"Crude?" Daphne whispered to him when Professor Laguardia continued down the list of names.

"I still haven't managed anything corporeal yet," he admitted, slightly abashed.

She giggled at his embarrassment. "Yeah, how dare you not fully master the patronus charm as a fourth-year." She teased him.

He smiled slightly at her teasing.

"Hey what happened last night?" She continued.

"That Durmstrang girl from the dining hall, remember how she asked me how to cross the ward?"

Daphne nodded waiting for him to continue.

"She tried it." He finished.

"Is she okay?"

He shook his head. "Absolutely not. Mind magic is no joke, Daphne."

"That explains some of the dirty looks you've been getting from them." She nodded towards some grey-uniformed students. "They probably think you attacked their friend."

Harry hadn't noticed.

"I hope I didn't cause a diplomatic incident," Harry said lightly. "I can see the headline now; Hogwarts Student Attacks Durmstrang Representative."

"Oh stop." She rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "No one would believe that."

"The same way no one believed I was the heir of Slytherin?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "Or that I'm not some dark wizard who curses people." He gestured lightly in the direction of their Hogwarts peers.

"Touche." She frowned, biting her lip. "It's not that they don't like you."

"It's just that they're afraid of me," he finished for her.

"They don't understand you. It's not their fault."

"Luckily, I have you," he said.

She looked away and they followed the Professor down to the end of the pier. They spent part of the morning cataloguing magical plants and feeding them to a Mediterranean sea-creature called a Hippocampus.

Daphne translated between the other Hogwarts students and the Professor so they wouldn't be totally left behind.

Harry frowned lightly. They should have learned the language. At least some of it. Or they shouldn't have come. Unfortunately for those who didn't speak French, not all of the Hogwarts fourth-years had the same classes. Most of them were in Runes and Arithmancy, but Harry and Daphne weren't in Divination, and Su and Ernie were.

Harry instead went to the Dining Hall for lunch. As he walked into the hall he immediately attracted stares from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students alike. Most were curious, no different from the looks he got when he first went to Hogwarts, but there was also suspicion and some anger. Mostly from Durmstrang, but there was also a little from the French.

 _Leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone._

Harry thought.

He adjourned to the library once he was finished with classes for the day, tired of being stared at. He just wanted to be left alone to study.

He sighed as he set his materials up again in one of the private rooms before beginning his scouring of the library. Anything on Mind Magic was the obvious priority. He also kept his eye open for anything about the soul, but this library had no restricted section, they simply didn't carry books about sophisticated dark arts or advanced and dangerous magic.

He wondered if that was the school's decision, or Nicolas Flamel's.

Though there _was_ more about Alchemy here in a single section than in all of the Hogwarts library.

 _Reasonable, considering this collection's previous owner._

He wasn't particularly interested in alchemy. Not as much as he was by other things, at least for now. He wandered the stacks for an hour, learning the layout, before he retreated to practice the magic back in the room he had occupied.

He was more than a little surprised to find a girl who definitely wasn't Daphne inside. She was the girl people had been staring at the first day.

 _What is it with me and blondes?_

He asked himself.

" _Did you need this room?_ " He asked the girl as he stepped inside.

She shook her head.

" _Then what can I do for you?_ "

She gave a small, confident smile. He touched her mind lightly.

" _My name is Fleur Delacour,_ " she said with a glowing smile and perfect straight white teeth. " _My sister mentioned dueling you Saturday._ "

" _You are a Veela too?_ " He took a moment to study her.

" _She said you did not notice her allure. Even when she focused it on you._ "

He frowned. " _And?_ "

" _I wanted to see if it was true,_ " She finished, the smile faltering slightly. " _You do not seem affected, but nobody simply does not notice it._ "

Harry shrugged, sitting down and pulling an animagus book towards him.

" _I wish to try and test my allure against you,_ " she said at length, when it became clear he wasn't going to respond.

He set the book down and frowned considering.

" _I don't see the harm in it,_ " he mused after a moment.

" _You are sure?_ " She asked.

He nodded and at once he felt a rise against his mental defenses but it never touched him. Empressions conveying a desire to impress her and keep her attention were utterly dismissed. " _Was that all?_ "

" _Merci…_ " She was giving him an astonished and evaluative look. "What do you know about Veela?"

"Veela are a lot like calicos." Harry said rubbing his jaw.

"What?"

"Calicos," he repeated. "Tortoiselle. It's a trait that some cats have."

"I know what calico cats are," she said after a moment, looking at him oddly.

"It's a trait some cats have, the black and orange stripes on white," Harry clarified. "It's only apparent in female cats." He nodded in her direction. "Being a Veela refers to a series of traits which only manifest in female witches. Further, like Calico cats, Veela children are all female Veela."

"You are well informed…" Fleur said slowly. "Most wizards know little about Veela. And those who do are more interested in our abilities zhan why they manifest."

Harry shrugged.

Harry heard the door open and felt Daphne's mind.

"Harry?" She asked. "What's going on?"

"She wanted to test her Veela magic on me." Harry said.

"Per'aps I can explain better?" Fleur interjected. "I 'ad 'eard from my sister Gabrielle zhat 'e was immune to ze allure. I wanted to see for myself."

Harry frowned. "That's what I said."

"Harry… no it wasn't," Daphne said slowly and with some exasperation. "I take it from the lack of drool that it didn't work on you?"

"'e wasn't affected in the slightest." Fleur answered in his place.

 _I just wanted to read about Animagi._

Daphne smirked slightly. "That's Harry for you."

There was a moment of awkward silence and Harry turned back to his book.

"I z'hink that I shall depart for dinner," Fleur began, giving Harry a totally confused look, "Au revoir, Mr. Potter."

Harry waved her off and returned to his book.

"You are such a strange wizard, Harry," Daphne said as she took her seat.

"Why?"

"You just ignored a Veela who went out of her way to find you and talk to you," she informed him. "How many wizards would do that?"

"I have no idea. I'm really not a normal wizard." He shrugged. "I just wanted to read this book."

"God, you're such a nerd," she said, laughing lightly. "Do you want to practice Occlumency with me?"

She smiled, and he couldn't resist the desire to smile back at her.

"Sure," he said, closing his book.

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" _And your very flesh shall be a great poem."- Walt Whitman_

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 _I answer questions and respond to reviews at my forum._

 **WG**

Edited 4/17/18


	14. The Wheel of Fortune

**The Wheel of Fortune**

 **Beta: Digitize27**

 _I answer questions about this story on by forum. Link in profile._

This chapter took time, as will all others afterwards. In the past I could use the books as a guideline but now I'm free of such things and I have to make both the past and the future consistent. This takes time, and no small amount of it.

Thank you for your patience.

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" _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,_

 _And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." -Shakespeare_

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Harry sat down for breakfast, feeling more than a little exhausted. He had been up all night again doing what he could for Tanyushka Malachite, the girl who attempted to cross the age line. Three nights in a row without sleep was pushing even _his_ magically augmented mind to its limits.

He winced, knowing that he would have to get some proper rest tonight.

"Did you hear about what those two Durmstrang students did?" Michael began without preamble, plopping down next to Harry.

Harry hadn't.

"Of course he hasn't." Daphne rolled her eyes from where she sat on the other side of the table. "Two Durmstrang students were caught wearing Grindelwald's symbol."

"The circle, triangle, and line?" Harry asked. "I didn't know it was his official symbol."

"It is." Michael nodded. "They were nearly thrown off the campus."

Harry could imagine. It would be like walking into a Polish synagogue wearing a swastika.

"It was those two." Daphne pointed across the hall, to what looked to be a third-year durmstrang boy and a much older girl, maybe a sixth or a seventh-year. "Ivan and Alyon Pushkin. Their family supported Grindelwald in the war."

Harry frowned lightly. Grindelwald marked a certain oddity in his life, as he found himself, at least in part, attracted to a few of the sorcerer's ideals.

He had killed so many people, and yet it certainly felt to Harry that his own life may have been much better if Grindelwald had won. Both Harry and Tom had grown up in the Muggle world, but if Grindelwald had conquered Europe perhaps they wouldn't have; they both could have had families.

They could have both lived regular lives, or maybe happier ones. Just at the cost of the lives of millions of other people.

Could something like that be worth it? Could you measure something like that? Break it down into its components and weigh them?

"Grindelwald is a bit of a touchy subject here," Michael Continued. "He had a lot of support from Durmstrang, killed a bunch of people in France, and then was stopped by the English."

"So, the French blame them for what he did to them, and us for not stepping in sooner," Daphne clarified for Harry's sake. "And England rose to prominence while the rest of Europe had to recover. There's a lot of hostility about it."

She finished the last bit almost distantly and Harry eyed her hand on the table and the far-away look in her eye. She could potentially be tasting the hostility from the object. It had been built to replace what Grindelwald had destroyed in the previous French school, after all.

"So uh, whatever happened to that girl? The one who tried the line?" Michael asked, gesturing towards the flaming cup.

"Nothing," Harry answered. "She hasn't woken up yet and it's entirely possible that she never will."

This subject… also made Harry uncomfortable. Professor Snape had warned him about the impacts of his discoveries and theories and he had continued spouting them about without caution.

Is this what wizards like himself brought? Between Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald, Harry wasn't sure the world had room for him too. Could it withstand another wizard who shook society like that?

To describe the lives of his predecessors would be to summarize the most miserable events of the last century.

If someone used one of his discoveries to kill someone, was Harry responsible? At least, in part? If someone died because of his theories, should he feel guilty?

He _didn't_ feel guilty but that didn't mean that he _shouldn't_.

Daphne caught his attention by tapping at a newspaper with her finger. "You might want to see this." She slid it over to him.

He picked it up and examined the headline.

 **Sorcerer's Stone in Danger?**

 **By Elise Villaneuve**

 **On the day of Saturday, September the Fourth, at approximately 5:00 am, an attempted break in occurred at a small cottage outside Nice.**

 **This cottage is unremarkable in many ways, but what makes this small home exceptional is that it belongs to Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. The couple, who routinely spend their fall in the sequestered villa, planned to stay in the house this Autumn like many decades before, and would have, if they hadn't been delayed.**

 **Thus, the would-be burglar found themselves in an empty house; the Philosopher's Stone on another continent as Nicholas gave the opening lecture at the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo just days before.**

 **The Flamel family was unavailable for comment, and Aurors have assured the Press that nothing was taken. However, we at the Tribunal are more than willing to bet on the motives of the burglar.**

 **There hasn't been an attempt on the legendary alchemical stone in centuries, the Flamel wards are reputed as some of the greatest in the world, and few have ever survivedthe endeavour, let alone succeeded.**

 **The would-be burglar is suspected to be an animagus who planned to enter the cottage via the plumbing. However, when the wards were activated, the man or woman was summarily reduced. Readers can rest assured that, like the endeavors before it, this would-be immortal is quite dead.**

 **Of course, there is the question of how the assailant knew the Flamels' private schedule. The couple had made no public announcement of their planned trip, and the wealthy duo own properties the world over that they may have decided to venture to.**

 **I for one, sincerely hope this is the last contest for the Stone for many years to come.**

The paper had gotten one thing wrong; Voldemort had survived when he made to steal the Stone, even if he hadn't actually gotten close to it.

Harry returned the paper to Daphne. "It's a good job whoever they are didn't get it."

The Stone could crash the world economy. It was one of the most dangerous magical artefacts in the world, even ignoring its most renowned ability.

"You're not interested in the Stone?" Daphne asked.

"Alchemy has never really caught my fancy, and I think I got quite enough of the thing first-year."

"Wait, the Philosopher's Stone?" Michael asked pulling the paper over to look at. "What happened first-year?"

"Quite a bit." Harry said, shrugging.

"Harry was just interested in it, that's all," Daphne said at the same time, trying to dissuade Michael from digging much deeper.

"Uh huh," Michael said slowly, looking skeptical.

Harry ignored them and settled into his thoughts, organizing them while Daphne hurriedly ran damage control.

He other concerns on his mind.

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Harry strode towards the Herbology greenhouses, nearly an acre of ground beneath beautiful and ornate glass which kept the plants warm during the colder seasons. There were garden beds outside the glass domes for the summer months which would fry plants under glass beneath the French summer sun.

The houses had a heady, earthy smell, and magical flowers blooming in pots added to the odor. It was actually quite pleasant, and that the area was beautiful certainly didn't hurt.

The fifth-year students were just leaving as Harry arrived, early as always, and two burly Durmstrang students stepped aside to block the entrance. They sneered at him, standing in his way, reminding Harry a great deal of Malfoy's lackeys.

" _Excuse me,_ " Harry said in polite German.

Daphne gave Harry a critical look for that. Was that the first time she had heard him speak German? It must have been.

" _Dumbledore's pe-_ " The taller one began with a hostile grin. Harry interrupted him by closing his hand and letting a little of himself out of that dark pit in his chest. The air grew colder, and the one who had been attempting some snide remark flinched away other backpedaled so quickly he fell down on his arse.

Dread consumed them both, a great mouth inside Harry's chest swallowing their terror and misery even as it imparted the desperate emotions.

 _Begone._

He thought.

" _Good bye,_ " He said firmly, steppeing past them without delay.

" _You'll regret what you did to Tanyushka,_ " One of them would have been a lot more intimidating if he was on his feet and hadn't tripped over himself to escape the younger teen. " _Her mother is a powerful woman, she'll make you pay._ "

" _Then why are you here, if I'll get what's coming to me?_ " Harry dismissed without glancing back.

He walked deeper into the greenhouse. He was pretty sure a collection of vines under one of the tables attempted to trip him but they were wire thin and crumbled where they touched him.

He pulled back into himself. Feeling like he had run a few kilometers. The magic wanted to run away from him. It wanted to be free, it was incredibly difficult to reel it back in and keep it locked inside himself once it was out.

"When did you learn German?" Daphne caught up to him.

"The same time I learned French," Harry said, struggling with the sudden split on his attention. "My talents made it easy."

"Yeah yeah, you're very talented," she said, rolling her eyes. "You can be pretty scary though. You know that, right? We talked about it but… you aren't like anyone else. You can see how it unbalances them."

Her eyes glanced back at the entrance, where the Durmstrang boys had fled, but her hands were gesturing towards their Hogwarts peers.

Harry thought back to last year, when she had pulled him from the pensieve and he had snapped at her, or when Lisa's face had turned white with fear when parseltongue slipped from him.

"I was polite to them," said he replied after a strained moment. "I was polite to both of them." He elaborated. "Both to those two, and the people at Hogwarts."

 _This is the second time you've brought up how scary I am._

He slipped the thought into Daphne's mind.

 _Going somewhere with that?_

[It would help me convince them that you aren't the next Dark Lord if you weren't quite so terrifying.]

He slipped an impression of the sibilant hiss of parseltongue in answer.

 _Some of them won't ever be convinced. Don't attempt the impossible on my account._

He finished.

" _Ah Mr. Potter!_ " It was Professor Du'Mont, and he was smiling in a contagious and good-natured fashion. " _The Potter-Longbottom process has been incorporated into the latest edition of our textbooks, if you are curious. I believe that we shall be teaching some of our Seventh-year students your process in a few weeks._ "

Harry cocked his head. " _Is Herbology a key class here at Beauxbatons?_ "

The professor bobbed his head diagonally back and forth for a moment while considering, before nodding. " _The temperatures here in France let us grow plants that much of the rest of Europe simply can't, not without greenhouses. So, I would say so, yes. A great deal of effort is put into the education of future herbologists here, and our countryside is spacious enough for the task._ "

 _Then my discovery may crash your economy, if Professor Snape was correct._

Harry scowled. He had been careless.

" _Is Herbology not a focus at Hogwarts?_ " Professor Du'Mont asked curiously.

" _It's part of our core curriculum, but as a school culture I wouldn't call it a focus. At least, not compared to Charms or Transfiguration._ "

" _Or Defense Against the Dark Arts?_ " Harry turned to look to see the younger Delacour sister.

" _I wouldn't say that,_ " He countered. " _The teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts is… inconsistent, at best._ "

" _Then how did you duel so well?_ "

" _Dueling isn't taught at Hogwarts._ " Daphne stepped in.

" _Then how could you possibly win?_ " One of Gabrielle's friends looked rather shocked.

[Pull the other one. It hath bells on it.]

She was thinking.

" _He's Harry Potter,_ " Daphne said, rolling her eyes again.

" _When you said that your Defense classes have been inconsistent…_ " Gabrielle cut in, giving her friend a look. " _What does that mean?_ "

" _We've had a different Defense teacher every year,_ " Harry clarified. " _The rumor is that somebody put a jinx on the position._ "

There was a squeak somewhere to Harry's right and Gabrielle's face twitched. " _Of course_ you _would say the name._ "

" _Of course I would,_ " He returned easily. " _What else should I call him? Tom?_ "

This time Daphne turned her head towards him so fast it almost snapped. Perhaps she alone heard the light inaudible quiver in his voice at the mundane name.

His other hounded him, even here. He alone, in all the world, feared Tom Riddle more than Lord Voldemort.

The plants that were in their care were some of the most unnerving Harry had come across,and with his predilection for being unnerved by some of the more animated plants, that was saying a lot.

In fact, they looked less like plants, than they did thick, blackslugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

He was sure Neville would have loved them dearly.

" _Now you'll need to squeeze these chambers, gently, mind you, and collect the excretions. The pus is very valuable._ " Professor Du'Mont declared with a face splitting grin. " _Use the glassware in the back._ _It's inert enough that it won't dissolve._ "

 _The Professor loves his job a little too much._

Harry thought.

" _Use you dragonhide gloves as well. The pus will do odd things to exposed flesh._ "

The pus smelled strongly of petroleum,and Harry was uncertain if it was as flammable as the hydrocarbon, but he worked distantly from Ms. Delacour all the same. He had to confess that squeezing them _was_ oddly satisfying.

Harry still thought electrocuting them would have done the job faster. A small jolt to make the sacks of fluid pop.

It was for the sake of efficiency, honest.

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Around midnight, Harry stood across from a tree near the Hogwarts clearing, under a silencing spell, focusing. He raised his wand and let his will flow into the air around the trunk, seeping under the bark and flattening against the bulwark of the tree beneath that outer layer.

The spell was ripped away from him after a moment and he nearly collapsed from the strain. He gasped out loud for breath as sweat ran down his back. It made him shiver in the cool French air. He could smell the salt from the sea on the fresh breeze.

He felt a presence and spun around.

"Harry? Up late practicing again?" Dumbledore stepped towards Harry but was gazing upwards at the open sea.

"Yes, Sir." Harry said, wiping his brow.

"A Mind Healer stopped by to see Ms. Malachite earlier, and her mother will be flooing to the campus sometime over the next few days."

"That's good news," Harry returned pleasantly.

"I for one, found myself lingering on something the Mind Healer informed us about. Something along the lines of 'miraculous repair.'" The Headmaster turned towards Harry. "Perhaps you could elucidate on that for me?"

"Magic tends to repair its housing in all forms," Harry answered. "Stranger things have certainly happened regarding magic. Particularly in such fields."

"Mmm." the Headmaster acknowledged easily, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "I am proud of you, Harry. Not many would do as you have done for Ms. Malachite. Though I find myself wondering why."

Harry hesitated and considered.

"Last year, Professor Snape warned me about my discoveries."

"During your discussion on potion invention." Dumbledore nodded; it seemed that the wizard had indeed been paying no small amount of attention to his exploits. "Go on, please."

"I ignored his warnings. I thought I was above those concerns," Harry continued.

"Surely you will agree that you had no part in Ms. Malachite's condition?" Dumbledore countered, perhaps for the sake of the argument. "You argued as much to Igor."

"But she wouldn't have been hurt at all if I hadn't spouted my ideas without caution,"

Dumbledore frowned in thought and eyed Harry carefully. "Regardless, and though she may never recover and no one else may know of your own good deeds, I still find myself humbled by your kindness. Returning to her and doing as you did could have brought considerable ire towards you and you attempted to save Ms. Malachite all the same." The Professor paused. "Just as you did for Ms. Weasley as well."

"I didn't enter the chamber to save Ginny Weasley."

"Yet you saved hernevertheless. Does that not count? Do good works require good intentions?"

"Of course they do." Harry paused to think. "Everything I may discover in my life may be a result of my stay at the Dursleys. That doesn't make any good I do theirs."

"Perhaps." Dumbledore was always uncomfortable with any mention of the Dursleys. "Now what is this you are attempting?" Dumbledore gestured to Harry's arboreal target.

Harry rolled with the change in subject without pause. "I don't understand why it is difficult to transfigure living things or conjure things inside of living things. For example, a hydrokinetic or an arokinetic _should_ be able to destroy their enemies by manipulating their blood, or the air inside of it."

"Ah, transfiguration." Dumbledore seemed to welcome the shift into his own realm of expertise. "This is a property of transfiguration referred to as the Manton Limit, or Manton's Law of transfiguration. Life, it appears, is indeed innately special or sacred, and has its own domain through which outside forces must penetrate in order to affect their structure. I suggest you take the time to study Manton and his discoveries."

"Because living things have souls?" Harry pressed. He opened his palm towards his book bag and a single volume floated into his hand. He turned and handed it over to the Headmaster.

"You're finished then? There are multiple theories regarding the why's of Manton's Limit, but several of them do implicate the soul. I prefer to justify Manton using the innate sanctity of living things, however, a soul-based explanation would go far in revealing why even non-magical beings appear to have this form of resistance, even if they display a much more muted fashion than that boasted by wizards."

"Do souls attempt to return the bodies which house them to an original state? Like magic? Do they facilitate healing for the forms that hold them?"

"They may." Dumbledore conceded "Little research has been done into human souls, let alone non-human ones, so you will find little research to refute or affirm your theory. Though if I may shift your perspective? Bodies to not house souls. You do not possess a soul," Dumbledore said succinctly.

"What do you mean?" Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. He was rather certain that he had a soul, all of his understanding pointed him in that direction, at least. He wasn't super attached to the concept, though, and he understood that the field was vague and generalized at best.

"You _are_ your soul, Harry. Your soul has a body and a mind, but your mind and form do not have souls."

Harry considered that for a long moment, then shook his head. "Sir, I wanted to ask you about Albania, and about Voldemort."

Dumbledore gave a tired noise and took a step forward as though he were about to begin pacing, but he stopped and looked back up at the ocean. "I'm afraid that I found remarkably little. It is worth noting that an English witch named Bertha Jorkins went missing in the region rather recently. She worked as an assistant to Bartemius Crouch Senior."

"The Head of International Cooperation?"

"The same."

"I don't see what use that would be to Voldemort." Harry concluded. "Perhaps she saw something she shouldn't have?"

"Or her disappearance is completely unrelated to Tom,." Dumbledore countered. Harry almost flinched at the name he had given his boggart and the fears which pained him.

"Now, when you are as old as I am I believe you will understand the benefits of a full night's rest. And, if I am not mistaken, you have missed no small amount of sleep over this last week."

Harry nodded, putting his wand into his robe.

"Good night Harry."

"Good night, Sir."

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Manton's law of transfiguration was like every other law describing the nature of magic; inviolable. Except when it totally wasn't.

It was an answer to an age-old question. In a duel, it seems that one of the most efficient ways to win would be to transfigure your enemy. Just turn their heart to lead or their blood to acid, or any other instantly lethal transfiguration.

Manton's limit described how it takes energy to overcome a witch or wizards natural resistance to outside magic. It's more difficult to turn a wizard into a ferret than it is to turn a rock into one because a rock doesn't have a means to magically resist.

Where could it be violated then? Well, animagi violated it all the time, though most scholars justified that and other examples of self-transfiguration by arguing that it came from the user's own magic and so their body's natural defensive magic, or, perhaps, their souls, did not resist such change.

Was it perfect though? Could it be fooled? Was this part of what happened to him with the Dementors? He had theorized as much, or at least something similar, but now… with this could he find proof? If only he...

Harry felt a buzz from his mirror in his pocket,interrupting his precious library time.

He closed his fingers and a book hovering near his head clamped shut. He pulled the mirror out.

"Lisa." He turned his head from the mirror to his open notebook. "How's Hogwarts?"

"Big, grey, and drafty." She gave a little sigh "They're really piling on the workload this year."

Harry nodded along, eyeing his arithmancy.

"Are you listening, Harry?"

"Of course."

She sighed. "We can skip the pleasantries. Daphne has been calling and letting us know some of what's going on over there."

 _Good, pleasantries are a waste of time._

"Something is wrong with Neville." Lisa began.

Harry gave the mirror a glance.

"Malfoy?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Malfoy's been harassing the Gryffindor boys."

She meant Ron, Seamus, and the other one, not Neville.

"Professor Lupin showed off the unforgivable curses yesterday," she pressed on. "Neville's not okay."

Harry frowned.

"Do you know what's wrong?"

Harry nodded.

"What is it?"

"I'm not comfortable sharing it," he said. "Though it's practically an open secret."

"I don't understand," she pushed back. "If you tell me I can help him. He's your friend and he's hurting. Don't you care?"

Harry gave her a stiff look until she shrank and muttered a quick, "sorry."

"This is a Hogsmeade weekend, right?" Harry asked.

She nodded.

"I'll come by and talk to Neville; orphan to orphan." Harry frowned lightly, thinking, and Lisa grimaced.

"Harry, Neville's in a fragile state. I don't know if you should talk to him."

"Because I'm callous?" He asked. He saw her sheepish look. "I'm not so ignorant as you all seem to think, and I can help him in ways no one else can."

"Are you going to aparrate all the way here?" She saw his look. "Daphne told us that you could."

"I'll have to make at least three jumps," he answered. "Daphne wanted to go back and see you anyways so I'll have her side-along. Maybe make it five or six jumps, just to be safe."

"I'm sure you wanted to see us too," she prodded gently.

"Well, yeah."

"Thank you, Harry. And we'll see you soon. Just…" she hesitated. "Be gentle with Neville, alright?"

"Alright."

He returned to his work. Once he saw Neville and could, well, get in his head, then he could help. Though, it didn't take a genius to piece together which of the unforgivable curses would bother Neville.

"Found you." Daphne sat down next to him after an hour. She was tugging her fingers fretfully. Harry set his quill down. "What's this spell?" She looked at the Arithmancy in the open notebook.

"Something I've been testing recently."

"It looks like…" She leaned in to have a look at the equations. "Couldn't you use this for…"

"You could probably use it for a lot of things," Harry cut her off. It was a quantification of his attempt to apply his will beneath the flesh of another living thing.

"This looks like you could flay someone with this." She looked at it. "Isn't that a little dangerous? Why would you design this?"

"I'm testing a transfiguration theory." He informed her. "Though it has other applications."

He touched her mind.

"Piano wire is designed for pianos," he said out loud, even as he sent impressions of people being killed with the wire, a few flashes of Dudley's favorite American Crime film. "That doesn't make its inventor murderous."

"That makes sense…"

This sort of thing didn't usually bother her.

"Lisa just called me. I'll be heading to Hogsmeade next weekend, if you want to come."

"Lisa?" Daphne pressed, biting her lip lightly. There was an odd lilt to her voice.

"She said Neville could use a hand." Harry eyed her.

"That makes sense. Tracey mentioned the unforgivables being shown in Defense." The lilt was gone.

Harry nodded. "I'll see what I can do to help. I imagine that I can relate best to him."

"Yeah, maybe." She nodded lightly. "I thought you said that was too dangerous?" There was still a hint of her discomfort.

"We'll make multiple jumps. It might take several hours." He looked at her fingers. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really. Well, I was in Cannes earlier. A French Boy asked me to go with him for ice cream. He was polite so I just said yes and went with him."

"Ah," Harry replied uncomfortably. He had no idea what to say to that. "And- um- how was it?"

He wrangled his emotions and crushed them.

Daphne gave an abashed look. "It was pretty awkward."

Harry tilted his head at her, her emotions had been all over, from start to finish.

"Have you ever thought about dating, Harry?"

"Dating…?" Harry asked.

"I'm sure you've heard of it." She said with a small smile, but it was scarcely there. A ghost of its usual brightness.

"I've never really… I haven't considered it seriously."

He had considered the idea, kind of. It was a prevalent concept in the minds of older students, so he was certainly aware of it, but he had never really thought about it within the context of himself.

"Why not?" Daphne chewed her lip.

"I'm not sure. It's never really been on my mind."

"You've never dreamed of having a family?"

The Mirror of Erised had held nothing but himself when it revealed his most desperate desires. He thought about the Dursleys, his own family who held nothing but hatred for him and the loathing he returned in kind. But _they_ loved each other. They were… happy. They were happy together – he knew that from their memories – just never when he was around. A family required more than one person being understood, being… loved.

"No. I've never thought about it," he said. "Not until now, at least."

"What about your muggle family?" Her big blue eyes were giving him a complicated look.

"They were hardly family," he replied slowly. "I never cared for them and they never cared for me."

"So you gave up on the idea?"

"I just never thought I'd find something like that. So… I never really gave the concept much thought."

"What, you never thought you'd find someone to date?" She was looking more incredulous and worried and curious now.

"That's a good way of looking at it. I never thought that anyone would be with me like that because I'm…" Harry frowned.

 _A freak._

The thought finished unbidden in his mind.

He felt his stomach drop. That was the Dursley word for it but… even here in the wizarding world he had never been normal. He was a freak amongst freaks.

When he first learned of the wizarding world he had wished to be normal. To fit in. To be accepted as he never was in the Muggle world. That dream had perished quickly.

He was exceptional. Too exceptional to be understood by all but the rarest of witches and wizards. He talents were widespread and powerful and he could be… would be, a legendary wizard. That was undeniable.

So the dream had shifted in the face of that undeniable truth. It changed until he dreamed that he was the greatest wizard; one who was powerful enough to be alone.

Even in the wizarding world he was an outcast, an outlier, and nothing could change that.

But he wasn't alone, not anymore. He had made friends, even if he hid most of himself from them. Did that count?

Was this what Tom had faced? A world where he could be accepted? Then, when he built his hopes on it, had the floor dropped out beneath him too?

He must have been immeasurably disappointed and steeped in despair.

Was Grindelwald the same way? Was _Dumbledore_? Was this their fate?

All his contemporaries were alone too.

A freak amongst freaks, or a centennial wizard; were the terms just synonymous?

The Dursleys, for all their faults… had they been happy? Before the end?

"Because I'm me," he finished.

There was silence for a long time after that.

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Harry sat with Grindelwald's paper. He alone was awake in the fourth-year boy's compartment.

It kept coming back to this. These same questions, the ones he was afraid to ask for so many reasons; about the soul, about him and Voldemort, and about his place in all of this.

He touched the quill to the paper and unlike the last time he didn't let it go.

 **What do you know about Manton's Limit?**

He waited.

 _ **More than I could write here. Wilhelm Manton was the Durmstrang Transfiguration Professor during my time at the School.**_

 **Why does it happen? What's special about life?**

 _ **Nothing, perhaps. I believe that no small part of Manton's limit is caused by the caster's limitations of themselves. I myself killed several wizards by conjuring within their bodies.**_

 _ **As you no doubt know.**_

Harry did.

 **Perhaps you overpowered their defenses?**

 _ **Which defenses? From whither do they come? The simplest explanations are the most powerful because they reflect reality most accurately.**_

Harry was left reeling. Was Manton's limit self-induced?

Harry wasn't sure about that. He himself had been struggling earlier with his tree to manifest his will inside of it. And Dumbledore seemed to believe that it held sway and he was the greatest conjuror alive…

...except for perhaps Grindelwald...

 **It takes a great deal more power to transfigure living things and to put your will within them.**

 _ **It does, yes, but does this have to do with the fact that they are alive, or that they are complicated? When you manifest your will inside of something, it may be difficult because you cannot imagine the effects you are having.**_

 _ **Try conjuring something blindfolded as a test.**_

That was a simple test that could reveal a great deal. Grindelwald had likely imagined it and performed it himself. It was moments like these that Harry was humbled by the genius of his predecessors.

Of course, this left him with a dilemma. One teacher told him one thing, his professor told him another.

 **What about the soul?**

 _ **Don't be childish.**_

 _ **If you are going to ask a question, make it one that is answerable. What exactly about the soul, Mr. Potter? What is the context? Soul magic is a broad and vague category as it is, without asinine, nonspecific questions.**_

Harry hesitated. His mirror quaked.

He frowned and withdrew it to see Luna Lovegood's face.

"Luna?" He asked.

"Don't ask him."

Harry tensed up. He could not possibly touch her mind from her. She had him at a complete advantage. She knew something.

"What do you see, Luna?" Harry pressed. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Do you trust him?" She asked. "Truly trust him?"

"You know your arguments in this direction will fail," Harry said simply. He wasn't going to play the game. Not with this.

They could skip right over several tiers of thought, because arguments about trust would fail right now, Harry had decided that the benefits outweighed that. Grindelwald was also trapped half a continent away and the information he could gleam about Harry from this couldn't be used to hurt Harry.

They could skip arguments about how the connection might not matter. That he was who he was. The similarities between himself and Voldemort were too pressing. His concerns about his boggart and his contemporaries were hardly something he could dismiss.

Even Dumbledore's arguments about how the similarities were irrelevant in the face of their differences would fall short. Harry had never believed that either.

He knew all that, and he knew the dozens of other points that she could make on that level would fall short. She knew it too. He knew that she knew. She knew that he knew that she knew, and so on. They skipped above the material and into the psychic.

Only her abilities could sway him in this.

"It will bring you suffering," she answered after a pause. "You'll be alone."

He scowled at her. Was she playing on his fears on purpose? Was she saying what she was saying to manipulate him? There was no way of knowing for certain. Not from this distance.

She likely knew that he knew that she knew that he knew that she could be manipulating him. It was turtles all the way down. She could be trying to get him to ask the question, in which case she knew exactly what to say to get him to do it, and if she wanted him not to, then she could do that too.

And, if he wanted to do the opposite to spite her, then she would have planned for that as well.

In the end, he decided, that meant nothing she was going to say was worth listening to. She knew how this would end and what she had to do to push him a certain direction.

No matter what he did he was falling into her hands or he could simply do what he wanted. There was victory in that.

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly. She knew what he was thinking, then? Was she going to push him a different direction? Was this part of her plan? "I'm trying to help you. Like you helped me. I wouldn't do that."

"But can I trust that?"

"Could I trust you? Even after you abused me?"

Harry winced. He _had_ abused her, they both knew it. Was she playing that card to toy with him though? He was teetering at the edge of solipsism.

Harry cleared his mind. In here, he had control. Even if outside of it everything was stacked against him. He thought things through carefully, ignoring Luna's existence.

He breathed.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you," he said. "Thank you for trying to help me."

He made his decision.

She looked close to tears. "I'm sorry." For what? For the future? For causing him distress now?

It didn't matter, he decided.

"You were always going to ask," she finished. "But I had to try."

Harry closed the connection.

 _Having a conversation with Luna is never dull, even if they are taxing._

He decided.

He touched the quill to the page.

 **What do you know about soul-based magical connections.**

There was a beat before ink appeared in answer.

 _ **Little. I studied other aspects of soul magic; its parts and separation more than anything else.**_

Harry could imagine the horrific experiments in that regard. They were likely the ones that resulted in Grindelwald being kicked out of Durmstrang.

 _ **Whenever I begin this topic I always recommend a book by Harfang Munter as an introduction. It is called**_ **Life: A Categorical Studie** _ **, I used to own a copy, but I loaned it to a friend and unfortunately he never had the opportunity to return it.**_

That made Harry freeze. He shook it aside, he could bring _that_ up later, even though that fed deeply into his mess of concerns about his predecessors. How they were related and how he related to them,and what his destiny held based off them.

 **I've already read it. I found mentions of a device called a Phylacterie, based on connections to the soul. It is this sphere that I am curious about.**

 _ **Trying to extend your life?**_

Harry frowned in confusion.

 **No. I'm merely curious.**

 _ **As you say. I know little of the magic you seek to understand. I have heard of something similar to a Phylactery, called a Horcrux. Both are means to extend one's life through soul magic.**_

Horcruxes were new information. Before, Harry knew that a phylactery served as an anchor for some unknown purpose, but now he knew the goal, if not the mechanisms. It was an attempt to extend a person's life using soul magic

He didn't fully understand, but he had a new subject of research, a new avenue, especially now that the _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ , may remain forever out of his reach.

He was starting to receive a greater picture of the connection between the soul and being alive. He had never figured out what exactly Dementors did with them either, but now he had direction. He had a vague plan.

 _ **I will caution you. There are other means to achieve immortality. Alchemy being the most famous and likely the least heinous.**_

It would appear Grindelwald didn't quite believe Harry.

 **I have no intention of treating my soul as a toy.**

He replied.

 _ **Good. I have little use for a dead protégé.**_

Harry frowned at that, but chalked it up to Grindelwald's sandpaper-like personality.

 _ **I wish to recommend some reading material. If you would hear it.**_

He didn't see how that could possibly hurt.

 _ **Do you know the Russian tale 'Go I Know Not Whether and Fetch I Know Not What?' I must confess some preference to it. In fact, one might say that it changed my life.**_

 _ **Read the original in Russian.**_

Was Grindelwald trying to distract him from soul magic?

 **I'll read them.**

The former Dark Lord hadn't been wrong yet.

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" _Every idea in my head, someone else has said" - The Who, 905_

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 _I answer questions about this story on by forum. Link in profile._

 **A cookie to whoever can guess where I'm going with Ms. Malachite.**

 **Going to go back and rewrite chapter two through five before the next update. I'm just not satisfied with them.**

 **Next update may be several weeks out.**

 **-WG**

Edited 4/17/18


	15. Justice

**Beta:** Digitize27

 **I'm glad the Worm Reference went over well.**

 **I have made several changes to the Quirrell Scene most prominently and edited chapters one, two, and three.**

 **If you enjoy this story, then you should re-read the very beginning of the first chapter.**

 **But I got tired of editing, so I wanted to write this.**

 _I answer questions about this story on by forum. Link in profile._

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" _The difficulty is not so great to die for a friend, as to find a friend worth dying for."- The Odyssey Homer_

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 **Tvashtri gathered the Apauruseya with the promise of fashioning mighty wands of great magic, and once convened he spoke and gave voice to their mutual animosity.**

' **How could Oceans fight the land? Would the shores be swallowed whole?' Tvashtri asked of them. 'Would fire consume all the winds?'**

 **Tvashtri held up a single staff, expertly carved and refined from the cluster. He snapped it in two with ease; to the shock of the Apauruseya.**

 **Wisps of spells never to be cast fell from the splintered ends. A fine wand, amongst the finest to ever be crafted fell to ruin in a heartbeat.**

 **Tvashtri grabbed the remaining wands and, though he tried, he could not break them.**

' **Go now, and rec-'**

Harry was drawn from his reading to look down at his right hand. His ring, the family ring, quivered softly against his skin, but it had stopped now.

Or perhaps it was just his imagination?

He turned back to the text and frowned.

When he had seen this text in Flamel's library, he had expected more about the Apauruseya and their magics. Instead he was left with the inane ramblings about this wand maker, Tvashtri. The translation was also frustrating, alternating between wands and staffs, for example, at seemingly random points.

It was also translated poetry – like all the other great Hindu works – so it was a step short of gibberish once translated to modern Hindi from Sanskrit, and to French from Hindi.

He set the work aside.

Though he had plucked it from the shelves, he had yet to truly reflect on the copy of 'Go I Know Not Whether and Fetch I Know Not What,' the text that Grindelwald had recommended to him.

A quick synopsis showed him that, inside, three wizards gave a man tremendous gifts each to complete tasks for a King or a Tzar, but he had yet to sit down and read it beyond the opening paragraphs.

 _Russian literature._

He mentally scoffed in frustration.

It wasn't related to magic beyond being a fairytale-esque work; only his gratitude and respect towards the former Dark Lord kept the book on the table when he would otherwise have already returned it.

Harry felt a familiar mind and he reached out and touched it, barely a passing graze but serving as a greeting.

Daphne shuddered, pausing mid-step as she crossed into the room in the library that Harry had pretty much claimed at this point.

"Is this Russian?" She pulled the fairytale in front of her.

Harry nodded. He glanced up after a beat to see an expectant look.

"Aren't we going to Hogsmeade?" She pressed. "You wanted to talk to Neville?"

She was right. He waved his wand and the mess of parchment sorted itself into neat, easily-carried stacks. "I'll drop this off and we'll get going."

It might take them an hour or more to get there. He had practiced imagining several locations he had seen along the trip in vivid detail to ensure their safe passage, but it may very well be exhausting, and he would then have to apparate them _back_.

He rendezvoused with her at the pier from which they could apparate, where she stood patiently waiting. She was smiling at him, that small mischievous grin plastered on her face with shining eyes.

She had the same look in her eyes when she stuck him to that desk in first-year, or whenever she made him try on some robes in Diagon Alley. She also wore it when she challenged him to a duel last year while he was still… ill.

He internally grimaced at the memory of that whole debacle.

He stepped up next to her and she intertwined her arm through one of his. He looked down at the contact, before looking back at her.

"We have to be in contact, don't we?" Her cheeks were rosy and, this close, he was acutely aware of how pink her lips were. He turned away to instead look out at the city. "I read that it's easier to sidelong apparate if we're closer. Unless it's distracting..."

He shook his head to the negative. He focused and cleared his mind of the heavy feelings that were encroaching on him.

He visualized a vineyard in southern France and exhaled.

With a crack they were standing amongst white grapes in a large field. From where they stood Harry could spot train rails. In the opposite direction of the rails was a chateau, or perhaps a farmhouse overlooking the fields.

"That wasn't so bad," he said.

Daphne huffed and blew some hair out of her face. She had nearly fallen and had lurched forward, but his arm had secured her.

Harry checked himself over for any missing body parts. Once he was assured that his extremities were still firmly attached and no sudden pain indicated missing organs, he turned to give Daphne a once-over.

She was looking herself over as well. She stared at her feet for a concerning amount of time. Eventually though, she nodded.

"I'm all here, I think," she affirmed. "Was that too tiring for you?" She smirked.

He realized he was breathing harder than normal and could feel sweat on his brow.

"It was more than I expected, but less than I was worried about," he considered, panting. "If it's just this than I should be good to go in a few minutes."

"How far did we apparate?" She gave a huff that blew more hair out of her face.

Harry hummed, considering it. "Perhaps a hundred fifty kilometers."

"And how far do we have to go?"

"You really should ask these things before the trip starts," he lightly admonished her.

"Oh, just tell me."

"Nearly two thousand." They had to follow the train lines, the places he had been, which didn't exactly form a geodesic, so it was farther than a straight trip.

"This is going to take all day, isn't it?" She grumbled.

He chuckled absently.

"I can probably double our distance, but that's still a few more jumps." He discarded some of the memories he was using to visualizing his destination and pondered for a moment longer. "Between four and six more."

"So, what? We would have had twelve jumps going by this distance?" She gestured in the general direction of the south, where they had come from.

"Something like that. Some jumps, like the one over the channel, are constant between my plans." It was just a matter of the geometry involved. Perhaps if he had jumped twice as far this time then he could shave one off but as it was he was still going to stop at some of the same places.

He hesitated. He had considered bringing Daphne to Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey. The Geometry of their jumps and his familiarity with the location worked out and… he was curious. He wanted to know about their deaths and who had struck against him.

Not that the Dursleys had mattered to Harry, but Pettigrew had no way of knowing that. It was entirely possible that they were killed as a means to get to Harry, ineffective as it had been.

A few touches of the right objects and Daphne could discover what happened at the Dursleys'. Of course, on the other side of that coin, Daphne would discover what _else_ happened at the Dursleys'.

He was closer to Daphne than anyone else. Shouldn't she know? Especially since he knew so much about her. Though he knew she was curious, she had never asked about his relatives with any vigor.

He had trusted her with nearly everything else, shouldn't he trust her with this? She certainly trusted him.

He would bring her there sometime and ask for her help. Not today though. He was going to be exhausted enough from apparating them so far, he justified.

"Ready?"

She nodded and took his arm.

They apparrated five more times to reach Hogsmeade, checking themselves over and giving Harry a moment to rest in-between.

Hogsmeade was chilly, autumn had come to Scotland and the sweat on Harry's back probably would have left anyone else feeling uncomfortable, but he had his advantages.

"I take it back. That was pretty bad." Harry sucked air in and groaned softly at the thought of apparating them back. "Next time you should make us a portkey."

"Daphne!" An enthusiastic shout rang out. The increase in pitch seemed to indicate the source was getting closer. Tracey slammed into Daphne with a hug. "It's been so long! And you kept me waiting! You said you were leaving like an hour ago and I just had to stand out in the cold! How's France, I bet it's warm down there. Met any cute French boys? Are there beaches? Did you check them out?" Her eyebrows gave a slight wobble as she said the last bit with a smirk.

Daphne was smiling and laughing during the entire greeting-turned-interrogation. "I saw you in the mirror today, plus Harry needed breaks between apparating. We left when I said we left."

"The mirror isn't the same." Tracey gave a dismissive gesture by flicking the back of her hand in Daphne's direction.

"I saw you less than a month ago."

"Practically forever!" Tracey swooned.

Harry didn't have to touch Tracey's mind to be infected by her happiness. He couldn't help but let his lips turn up in a smile. He looked away from the conversation taking place up at the castle. There was an itch to go inside and go to his room and never leave. The itch would have to be scratched another day.

"I don't know where Lisa and Neville are. They said they'd meet me here but they didn't turn up." Tracey turned away from Daphne and looked around Hogsmeade, they had gathered a little bit of attention from visiting students. His presence seemed to be enough to discourage anyone from getting closer.

Harry spotted Neville and Lisa coming their way at a brisk pace.

"Sorry we're late," Neville apologized.

"It's fine," Harry dismissed.

Tracey snorted. "They were late, you were late. Merlin, am I the only one who can be punctual around here? I swear…"

Harry zeroed in on Neville. He didn't look so off-balance, he was still pudgy and he looked well rested. Harry reached into Neville's head, and frustration and impotence burned against his touch, bitter and sour. Along with something sweeter, relief, perhaps?

He plunged into Neville's memories.

[ _"It was too far, don't you think? Showing off those curses like that?" Hermione began. "He could have just explained the curses and their incantations. He made them look attractive to some students." She was carrying her books with both arms close to her chest, with her chin angled slightly upwards._

 _Neville could tell that she was thinking about Harry, but Harry undoubtedly knew about the Unforgivables._

" _Yeah, maybe."_

 _She must have been able to tell that he didn't fully agree because she turned around and looked at him. "What? Don- You're as white as a sheet! Are you cold? Running a fever?"_

 _She extended a hand towards him and stopped walking. He batted the probing digits away from him, leaning back as she suddenly stopped walking. He narrowed his eyes._

" _I'm fine, let's just get to Lunch, I'm hungry is all."_ ]

Harry let the strand go and grabbed another.

[ _"Neville you've hardly touched your potatoes," Hermione reprimanded him. "Are you sure you're not coming down with something? We could go to the Hospital Wing?"_

" _It's not my favorite," Neville excused himself, pushing his plate away from himself. "That's all."_

" _You've been like this all week! Ever since Defense you've been ill. I knew that he shouldn't have shown those spells, they're so dreadful!"_

 _No, he needed to see them. He_ needed _to know._

 _Neville felt hungry, but it wasn't for anything roasted. He burned in his stomach and chest._

" _Come on, we'll take you to Madam Pomfrey."_

" _I'm fine Hermione."_

" _Ne-"_

" _Stop it!" Neville snapped._

 _He felt his ears flush as her face fell. She had only been trying to help, even if it was in a pushy way. Could he really be upset with her over that? Really?_

" _S-sorry," he stammered. "I-I-I just don't think she can help." His confidence buoyed by his anger sank._ ]

"Hey Harry, Daphne," Lisa said as she reached them. "How's France been?"

"It's been fun," Daphne responded. "The dueling classes are very interesting. Harry pretty much hasn't left their library. We also visited Cannes, Harry apparated me."

Harry shrugged.

"Did you sidelong apparate all the way here?" Lisa asked. "I thought you were joking."

He shook his head with a wan smile, "Why do you think it took so long? I had to recover between jumps."

"Wait but isn't tha-"

"He's Harry Potter," Daphne explained, rolling her eyes as she interrupted Tracey. "Things that would be difficult for other wizards are beneath him." She added a sardonic, faux pompous twist to her voice as she said that.

"To be fair, it was exhausting," Harry confessed. "I'm not looking forward to the return trip," He looked up at Neville. "The Beauxbatons Herbology Professor was impressed with our work."

"Was he?" Neville gave a small smile, genuinely curious.

"Professor Du'Mont can't stop gushing over Harry about it. Apparently, it's important for their economy," Daphne answered with a dainty shrug.

"Alexandre Du'Mont? He wrote the book on Aquatic Mediter-"

"Aside from boring plant stuff," Tracey cut in. "What's Beauxbatons like? What do you do there?"

"Daphne went out with some guy?" Harry informed them absently.

"What? Really?" Tracey predictably jumped on that while Daphne shot him some kind of betrayed look. "Where did you go? Was it fun? Is he hot? Did you kiss? Answer me! I live through you! Your romantic life is my romantic life!"

Harry stepped back. He had underestimated her verve.

"What's his name?" Lisa entered, much more level-headed and asking the more obvious question. When Daphne didn't respond Lisa looked at Harry.

"I never asked," Harry answered, placatingly.

"That's it!" Tracey announced, fed up with the slow progress she was making with getting her answers. "Girl talk. You two stay here or something." She pointed vaguely in Harry and Neville's general direction before she grabbed Daphne's hand and Lisa's shoulder and dragged them further down the street. She turned back and gave a circular gesture, "and don't listen!"

"What did Professor Du'Mont discover?" Harry asked Neville, putting the girls out of mind with practiced swiftness.

"He catalogued over a hundred Mediterranean species," Neville answered, still staring off at the retreating group. "He's the greatest living expert on European aquatic plants. His book is _the_ benchmark."

"Lisa mentioned that you were feeling off," Harry informed him, gauging his reaction, changing the subject quickly to push him off balance. Neville was feeling pent up, he needed to let that out.

"Did she say why?" There was something sharp in Neville's tone, something familiar in his head.

Harry nodded slightly, "she said it was after Professor Lupin demonstrated the Unforgivable Curses in class."

"You told her!" Neville snarled his nostrils flared. He stepped up to Harry and Harry turned away from the staring at the backs of the group of girls to meet his friend's eye.

"No, I didn't," Harry replied calmly, holding his hands out in placation, almost radiating tranquility. "Why do you think I'm here?"

Neville looked away from him to glare furiously at the ground. "You wouldn't understand."

Harry asked, "out of everyone in the world?"

Neville's eyes flashed, "Your parents are only dead, Harry."

"You're right, I have no living family."

"That's not the point! You have Dumbledore looking out for you, what do I have?"

"A grandmother who loves you dearly." Harry raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I don't want to have a pity party Neville, I want to help."

"Really? Can you help my parents!?" Neville accused.

"Your parents are strangers to you," Harry returned. "You wouldn't know them. You've never met them. You're an orphan, like me. I hope that one day you can let them go, as I have."

"I'm supposed to follow in your footsteps? You know what Hermione says about you?"

Harry stayed quiet. He could very well guess what Hermione had to say about him, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm done talking to you," Neville finished as he calmed down.

"Then _listen_ ," Harry said sharply, inflecting his voice harshly for the first time.

It was enough to give Neville pause, make him flinch when he made to leave.

"Did you know I studied the killing curse?" Harry asked. "Hours and hours. I even considered casting it."

Neville flinched again, "Hermione was right about you-"

"What would she say if she knew you wanted to know more about the Cruciatus curse?"

"H-h-how do you know about that?"

"I bet you know the wand movement. I bet you've practiced it, late at night, alone in your dormitory, when everyone who has families is sleeping." Harry didn't even need to read Neville's mind to know he had struck true. There was a pale shadow of himself within the Longbottom scion.

"You've done the same thing," Neville realized. His words were soft, and his hands were no longer clenched by his sides.

"What would Hermione say about that, huh? That it's evil? That it's wrong?"

"She wouldn't understand…"

"Hermione is an only child, doted on by her parents, the both of them, their attention devoted to her. What would she know about loneliness?" It's true. He didn't know enough to say that Hermione's life had been easy, but she'd never felt that howling dissociation. Except, perhaps, here at Hogwarts. Before the troll. _Then_ she had tasted seclusion, had suffered under its weight.

Even had she been called a freak by her peers in other schools, she at least had family to fall back on.

Harry knew what it was like to be alone. In all the world he was the expert on solitude, he knew nothing but detachment until Hogwarts.

"That doesn't make her a bad person," Neville pointed out, but his focus was absent. It was as though he was saying for himself rather than for Harry.

"No, it doesn't," Harry agreed. "Do you want to cast the Cruciatus curse? Do you want to know what it feels like under it?"

Neville was silent for a long time, minutes.

"It's…" Neville trailed off.

Neville wanted to say it was wrong. That it was evil and repulsive… but he wasn't completely repulsed. He wanted to know.

"I want to know what the killing curse is like. I just haven't tried, for obvious reasons," Harry joked lightly.

Neville gave him a soft chuckle. "You survived it once."

"I don't think I'll get that lucky again. Could you imagine me walking away from it a second time?" He inserted more levity.

The only sound was that of shoppers further down, Tracey giggling distantly, the Scottish wind through crinkling leaves.

"Harry, I couldn't ask you for that."

"Why not?" Harry said shrugging, "I trust you."

"I-I just can't."

"Then don't ask. I'm offering."

"Maybe sometime. But not today." Neville breathed. He exhaled like he had been holding his breath for a week. "What would you do if you could get revenge on You-Know-Who?"

"If I had him at the wrong end of my wand?" Harry clarified. Neville gave a slow nod.

"I'm not sure. Dumbledore would say he deserves our pity."

"But what do you think he deserves?"

"He doesn't deserve to be here with us." Harry gave the question its due consideration. "There are things he can take from me. He's… dangerous. If I had him, I'd do away with him."

"He killed your parents," Neville reminded. "You don't want revenge?"

"Pettigrew…" Harry paused. "Both of them may also be responsible for the death of my relatives."

"Peter Pettigrew? What did he do?"

"He betrayed my parents to Voldemort."

Neville didn't flinch at the name. He was likely too emotionally exhausted.

"You don't sound upset."

"It's distant," Harry returned. "What about you? Bellatrix Lestrange or Barty Crouch Jr?"

Bellatrix Lestrange was… well she was a monster, but she was unique. She was an empath, as a convicted Death Eater knowledge about her life was a matter of public-record. She was a _twisted_ empath.

Most empaths are able to feel the emotions around them with a sizeable range and not all of them could turn it off. The misery and conflicting emotions of others around them could drive them mad. Most of them avoided urban areas and other people in general in an effort to preserve their own sanity, but that solitude could also take a toll on their mental health.

There had been attempts by empaths to form colonies, but when a single member might start experiencing rage or depression it would bring the whole group down with it, a positive feedback loop poisoning the entire collective.

Bellatrix was unique in that she felt, perhaps not the opposite emotions from her target, but the inverse. Excruciating pain in those nearby supposedly sent her mind straight to nirvana.

"I'd kill them," Neville clenched his jaw. "They took everything from me. I know hurting them won't bring them back but..."

Harry nodded.

"About Hermione…"

Harry waved him off, "Hermione doesn't concern me."

"I thought you disliked her." Neville turned a curious eye at him.

"She dislikes me, but the feeling isn't mutual. I think she is a perfectly respectable witch who only has success ahead of her," Harry searched for the right word. "She's too…" Pristine? Trite? Singular? She had elements of all those things, but none were quite right.

"Naive? Innocent?" Neville tried to supply him with the right word.

Harry shook his head and they stood in silence.

"Are you okay?" Harry pressed lightly.

"I'll be alright."

Harry gave his friend a soft smile.

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"Hello, Harry."

Harry turned and saw one Ginevra Weasley, her face turning to the color of a raspberry under his attention. It made since that she would be around Hogsmeade, being a third-year probably meant that today was exciting for her.

Neville had made his way back up to the castle and Harry stood alone waiting for Tracey to finish with Daphne. He had no idea how long _that_ was supposed to take.

"Ginny," he greeted politely before he very rudely reached out his mental fingers. There was something of a defense. At the very least she had likely been doing some basic mental exercises for a while now. "How are you liking Hogsmeade?" He continued as though he wasn't finger deep in her emotions.

"It's nice," she managed to squeak out. She was trying terribly hard to calm herself. Whoever she had been seeing obviously hadn't snipped whatever her obsession with him was.

"I see you've been recovering, practicing mind magic," he soldiered on, rooting around slightly to see what whoever she was seeing had done to her mind, hoping to glean some insight about mental healing.

"Is it that obvious?"

She was… focusing on important memories from before she was possessed. Major personality defining moments. Time spent with her family, flying a broomstick for the first time, running in a park with some childhood friend, and… himself handing her a cauldron in Diagon Alley?

Her instructor hadn't told her which memories to focus on, only to enrapture herself with some of them, she had chosen these ones herself. That was the point, though, to rebuild her thought patterns through the repetitive examination of her most important thoughts.

"It is to me." He shrugged.

This method was fascinating, he could only spot small instances where her mind had actually been touched by the professional, a woman named Madam Wheeler. It was allowing her mind to regrow and rebuild, using these points in her life as a trellis for the twisting vines to grow upon. Providing structure and foundation to her psyche.

His own method with Malachite had been to cut away the rot, exorcise the broken strands. More similar to deadheading roses and cutting away large parts to make way for the new.

 _I made a horrible mistake._

He hadn't healed Malachite, not really. She had no structure now, there was nothing to rebuild upon. There were no twisted strands, just surgically removed blocks, but they had nothing to stand on. Even if her memories had been damaged they could have still helped her. She was never going to have come out of what happened exactly the same anyway.

How many personality defining moments had he removed all traces of? Would she be sane if she awoke?

 _I've destroyed her._

Imagine if a person was shot and then you removed the bleeding arteries and veins. You just pulled out the damaged organs instead of repairing them. Of course the healer would call it miraculous. Like a doctor who opened up a person to operate and found no heart inside their chest, just clean-cut arteries.

Harry hadn't performed surgery. He had vivisected her.

"Shouldn't you be in France?" Ginny continued.

Harry cleared his throat and tried to wave away his complicated feelings. They were heavy and just… _dense._ "I just apparated up here to see my friends."

"Lisa?"

"Neville and Tracey too," Harry confirmed. He was trying not to choke.

"Where are they?"

"Tracey dragged Lisa and Daphne off somewhere and Neville already went back to the castle."

"That Slytherin girl?"

Harry nodded. As Ginny was getting more in control, mastering her emotions, his seemed to be flying off the handlebars.

Ginny wrinkled her nose and Harry attempted to detect whatever she did. The faint musk of ozone hit the back of his throat.

 _I need to deal with this later._

He snapped himself back into restraint as fast as he could. His abilities spilled from him enough even when he was focused.

"So what? You apparate her all the way up here and she just left you alone?"

She had originally planned on saying that Daphne had ditched him, but changed his mind.

"I suppose." He probably could be studying instead but this wasn't so much of a loss, just a few hours.

"I see…" She didn't at all. She was trying to drive the point home that she would give him attention even if Daphne wouldn't. She wanted to put his relationship with Daphne under some scrutiny in some attempt to make him want to spend time with her instead.

Was this obsession with him natural? He had thought it was a result of her ordeal, but if the mind healer hadn't removed it then was it a part of her personality? Or had she encouraged it anyway? A school girl crush to focus on. An attempt to normalize her.

"I mostly came to see Neville anyway," he dismissed.

"Harry?" Daphne was coming back, she looked around. "Where'd Neville go?"

"He went back to the castle."

"Yes I suppose it is nearly curfew for Hogwarts." Daphne nodded along.

"I'll see you later, Harry." Ginny stepped back and turned around to make her way back towards the castle. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye Ginny." Harry turned back to Daphne. "Time for us to leave?"

"Probably, I'm sorry we took so long. You know how Tracey is."

"I got what I came for anyway."

He offered her his arm and they apparated away.

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Harry visited the Malachite girl that night. He had to see what he had wrought. He had to.

Her mind looked like a quarry compared to the growing advancement of Ginny's. Stone blocks removed, clean cut rock and an empty pit. Clean cut, but not alive.

How old had Voldemort been when he had killed the girl in the bathroom?

 **Do you know anything about mind healing?**

Harry wrote to Grindelwald.

 _ **It exists in an odd area. Do you know what mind magic is?**_

 **You could probably call it my forte, so yes.**

 _ **Are you familiar with the anatomy of the human brain.**_

Harry wasn't. When he compared that knowledge with what he had just written it seemed very glaring.

 **Not very.**

 _ **Tell me, do you know what happens physically when you use Legilimency on a person? What happens to their brain when you interact with the mind?**_

 **I'm not sure.**

 _ **Neither am I. Thus, it exists an odd Twilight Zone. Somewhere between the physical and metaphysical. In a physical sense, you are reading the movements of signals both in the present and the past that are happening in their mind. From there you are implementing transfiguration. Physically changing their brain as you metaphysically adjust their mind.**_

 **It doesn't feel like that at all. How could I possibly process and understand that much movement, that much signal, and then precisely, on the cellular level, change it.**

 _ **The modality is nothing familiar to the interpretation of signals is it? Yet you are doing so within your own mind right now, are you not?**_

That was an alarmingly good point. He was doing that in his brain right now when he rode his train of thought and changed his tracks. Assuming he was indeed his own conductor.

 **Assuming such a thing as free will.**

 _ **Free will is a quaint notion for wizards like us.**_

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that.

 **Why are some wizards more powerful than others?**

 _ **You will hear, from the uneducated, that different people have different sized magical cores with their own consistencies and textures. You will hear that this is source of all differences in magical might.**_

 _ **This is a common misconception which arises when amateurs first begin learning about soul magic. They mistake the soul, the source of a person, for the source of magic, though the soul is inherently magical.**_

 _ **This is not the case. Magical creatures are permeated with magic while wizards pull magic through them, they are merely the catalyst for a reaction, not the source of the energy for it.**_

 _ **Wizards of the greatest power are the beings with the greatest impetus. More impulse occurs within their bodies than that of lesser individuals.**_

Harry processed that, evaluating it against his existing body of knowledge. It reminded him a little about his discussion with Professor Snape above a cauldron of Wolfsbane potion.

 **How much magic can be excited to perform work in this way?**

 _ **As much as one can handle, if they can survive the wear that it puts on their bodies. You are likely already familiar with the exertion one puts themselves through by channeling arcane flux.**_

Harry thought immediately about apparating all the way to Scotland, or when he used his putrescence curse.

 **Theoretically, how much can a person withstand?**

 _ **Which person and when? Again with the witless questions. I expect you to know enough about magic to understand why it is so varied?**_

 **But surely we have limits.**

There could only be so much, right? How much until a person just burst into flames or turned to stone or a million other things that could go wrong, _did_? They could only channel so much until their heart simply stopped and they couldn't handle it. A human was just flesh and blood, and mere flesh and blood is all the same person-to-person.

As a conductor, it could only be stretched so far.

 _ **And who could impose them? You forget the intertwined nature of will and magic. I should not have to spend time lecturing you regarding intent.**_

Grindelwald had a fairly good point. It wasn't the body that held magic, though magic could be applied to it. It was the mind and, it would seem, the soul. A wand was little more than an antenna from this perspective, though, a sufficiently puissant wizard could be their own focus, a wand was a better conductor.

 **Are some wands greater conductors than others?**

 _ **A far better question. Read what I have recommended to you.**_

Did all great wizards have to be so enigmatic? Harry desperately hoped that he wasn't so transcendent when he spoke.

That aside, it was fairly obvious that Grindelwald wanted him to reach some conclusion based on the story he gave Harry. The only question then was what could possibly be so important that the former Dark Lord wouldn't just spill the secrets?

Wasn't that the point of having a mentor? To easily gain what others had worked hard to achieve?

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Harry's was woken up by a vibration on the knuckles of his hand. He woke up quickly and looked down at the metal that made up his family ring. It was vibrating, just softly.

He took it off and examined it slowly. He set it on his nightstand where it shook gently. Making a low hum against the wood.

He picked it up and turned it over in his fingers.

Ernie was also awake, though he looked considerably groggier.

"Wha's go'n on?" Ernie asked. "Is that your ring?"

Harry nodded.

"Is yours doing it too?"

"Rattling?" Harry asked, nodding as he said it.

"Why are we awake?" Michael demanded from his bed, evidently woken up by Harry and Ernie talking. "Its-" he paused to find his clock on his nightstand, knocking it to the ground before grabbing it. "Its six o'clock on a Saturday-Sunday," he corrected, holding his clock in both hands. "Why is my clock humming at me."

"My ring is vibrating," Harry said.

"Mine too." Ernie confirmed.

"Is it metals?" Harry reached for the metal clasps on the trunk. "It's doing it too. The whole train is shaking."

"It's singing to me," Ernie said softly. He was holding his ring up to his ear, he began to hum softly. "I can hear it singing. If I listen closer maybe I can hear the words..."

"Ernie!" Harry snapped. His dormmate's eyes snapped up to him. "Put it down."

The boy almost tossed the ring away from him. "You think it's dangerous."

"Do you know what song you were humming?" Harry pressed.

Ernie shook his head looking nervous.

"Is it… mind magic?" Michael asked.

Harry shook his head before giving a tentative shrug. "Maybe, I don't think so, but I don't recognize this spell. It could have aspects of mind magic, a lot of songs can do horrible things."

"You mean like get stuck in our heads or…" Michael pushed.

"Something like that, but magic. Not a regular song."

"It feels like a heartbeat." Michael looked down at the clock in his hands. "It's warm."

"Drop it!" Ernie warned.

"Don't listen, don't interact with anything metal," Harry suggested.

"Harry the whole train is metal," Ernie countered.

"Then we need to get off the train." Harry realized he could hear it too. Almost whispering at him.

He stood up and felt Dumbledore approaching. Harry stepped out into the corridor, transfiguring clothes onto himself.

"Sir."

"Harry, I see you are already on top of things."

"Sir what is happening, is the song dangerous?"

"Afraid of the infectious power of music?" Dumbledore hmed at him. "Ah I see your roommates are awake as well, Please, Mr. Corner, Mr. Macmillan, don't let us disturb your sleep any longer, I need to borrow Mr. Potter.

"But the song, Sir?" Michael pushed.

"It's a lullabye, one of Tanyushka Malachite's favorites, according to her mother. Something about a child being too close to the edge of the bed and being dragged off into the forest and killed by wolves. On that note I bid you a good morning. Follow me, won't you Harry?"

Harry followed his professor down the corridor to a door and out into the early French mourning.

"It was wise of you to be concerned about music."

"I have heard of 'Sonnets of the Sorcerer,' Sir." Harry waited for Dumbledore to reach the point.

"Madam Malachite arrived yesterday but only for a moment, perhaps you were in Scotland at the time? An impressive feat of apparition for your age, carrying yourself and Ms. Greengrass so far. Ah, visiting friends is important. It should not be forgotten. Once I traveled all the way to Germany just to visit a penpal."

 _Was it Grindelwald?_

Harry didn't ask that, instead he walked in silence.

"That's a story for another time, I'm afraid. For now Madam Malachite has made the time in her busy schedule to remain by her daughter's side. She is a fairly busy woman."

 _Too busy to see her mostly dead daughter?_

"Do you know her Professor?"

"We've met once alone. We fought in the Great War, however."

"On which side?"

"We fought together." Dumbledore pushed past the treeline to a rocky beach where he stopped.

"Someone mentioned to me that she was powerful."

"Had a run in with a handful of rowdy Durmstrang students, then? It's not like you to listen to rumors." Dumbledore marched on. "She is fantastically wealthy, so there is some power in that. Magically speaking, however, I won't lie to you. She is a Metallokinetic and a Shapeshifter, Harry."

That stole Harry's breath. "Both?"

Dumbledore gave a solemn nod.

Animagi could change from man to animal but a shapeshifter, a real one, wasn't limited by much of anything.

"I wished to warn you, Harry. The girl who cast the memory charm, Ms. Faere has left the Island and hasn't returned. Her family likely fled to avoid the ire of Madam Malachite. If she believes you are culpable for her Daughter's state, then there is no telling what she may do. I had hoped that her daughter would start to recover with your intervention, but there has no sign of any such progress."

 _With my intervention she is even less likely to recover._

"I want you to avoid her, whenever possible. Carry your cloak with you at all times, just to be cautious. I want your word."

"You're afraid of her," Harry realized.

"I do not relish the thought of her as an enemy. Your word, young man."

"You have it," Harry agreed.

"Then I shan't keep you any longer. Have a pleasant Sunday." Dumbledore departed with that, old legs carrying him much more quickly back to the school than the rate they had brought him here.

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" _Cognitive psychology tells us that the unaided human mind is vulnerable to many fallacies and illusions because of its reliance on its memory for vivid anecdotes rather than systematic statistics." – Steven Pinker_

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 _I answer questions about this story on by forum. Link in profile._

 **-WG**


	16. Justice II

**Beta:** Digitize27

 _Because I like to discuss things, I made a forum for this story. Link in Profile._

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" _Even glimpses in Fate are Terrifying." - Dr. Fate, DC Comics_

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Luna could smell smoke.

That was normal, she had smelled the smoke, heard the screams, and seen the flames all her life.

Normal for Luna meant a word or phrase could steal her away from her homework, or whoever she was talking to. It left her staring at empty walls for hours on end. Then she would lie. She would say she saw a grumpkin, or a wrackspurt.

It was slang, or a kind of code her father had come up with for when she was stolen. She was just seeing wrackspurts.

At a time, she had told her father her visions, back when they were still dreams that only took her at night. But when she saw the Eiffel tower melting at night, and could hear the sounds of burning city as she lay asleep, she stopped.

She couldn't burden her father with that; a great golden snake of flames swallowing all of Europe whole.

The visions began taking her by day too. Washing her away into the future of a child she passed on the street. Some visions were minor, but if she followed them, if she allowed them to take her, they would always carry her to where Berlin, or Moscow, or Paris was in flames.

That was common. It left people avoiding her for the most part, but it allowed her to hang on when she was otherwise nearly washed away. It was lonely, but lonely was normal for her too.

She really had two illnesses. She was crazy, and she knew that she was crazy.

"Hello Luna," Ginny plopped down next her in the library. Luna let her eyes refocus, away from the portrait of Asimina the Distant which decorated the wall next to her table. "Have you started the potions essay?"

Ginny did not ask why Luna had not gone to Hogsmeade, which was polite of her. It meant that she didn't have to come up with an excuse. The real reason was because Harry would have been there, and thinking of Harry was like stepping into a riptide of future events. A single slip could send her plummeting into fire.

"Oh, not yet." Luna looked down at the table, she didn't even have any of her books open. She opened the one for her Divination class.

Hundreds of pages about opening the inner-eye and not one about closing it.

Ginny settled in to work on her own essay, her cheeks flushed from the cold - or from Harry - and her face was framed by pretty red hair. She had been down in the village having fun with her fellow Gryffindors and talking to him, while Luna sat here alone.

Luna did have _some_ friends, especially if she ignored Harry. She had found a kindred spirit in Ginny Weasley, and why not? They were both ravaged souls. Ginny was often shunned for the misunderstanding in their first year, and Luna was set apart because she was crazy.

They would study together, laugh and joke together. They even lived close enough to one another that they saw each other outside of school during the summer.

That was precious to Luna.

She liked to believe that Ginny also enjoyed their time together; though insecurity always tugged at her that Ginny was doing it out of some sense of pity.

Harry was doing it out of a sense of pity, and guilt, and curiosity. He had another emotion though that made his motivations less bleak.

He empathized with her, even if he didn't know it himself. He empathized with Ginny too. So he pitied her, even if it wasn't quite pity, and it set him apart. It made him a third member of her group of poorly adjusted friends.

It didn't mean that the tide of future event he waded through was less likely to wash her away. The vision she witnessed when she had first seen the Boy-Who-Lived, in particular, followed her. A dark-haired baby girl in a crib. A dead woman at the foot of the cradle and a room full of men with wands drawn and angry, furious, faces.

Harry stood amongst them, taking in the scene. The men set to murder the girl in the bassinet and his eyes flashed. There was silence. Then everyone in the room died, save himself, and the girl.

Sometimes she did have control. She could guide herself to what she wanted to see. Sometimes she didn't and she floated along like she so often did when it came to the subject of Harry Potter. That was standard.

But normal isn't the same as healthy, is it?

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Madam Malachite had come to stay at Beauxbatons. She moved in with a small entourage, and so far no one had been either rude enough, or polite enough, to ask her to leave.

 _Or perhaps not stupid enough._

The French Ministry overseeing the Tournament had welcomed her, a bandaid over the whole diplomatic incident, according to Daphne.

Harry had written to Grindelwald about the situation.

 _ **Azovka Malachite was indeed one of my enemies. The Russians pit her against me. They believed that with the right support, that she could defeat me.**_

 **Could she?**

 _ **With enough help from lesser wizards and witches who were contributing without getting in her way, perhaps.**_

Harry interpreted that as Grindelwald doubting it.

 _ **I don't understand why you are focused on one of my wartime foes.**_

 **She's here. I may have killed her daughter.**

 _ **May have?**_

 **I unwound her mind in an attempt to fix a poorly executed memory charm.**

 _ **Are you linked to this crime?**_

 **I'm linked to the memory charm, though I didn't cast it.**

 _ **You should be wary. I never faced her politically, but she may well excell at it. She certainly had the means, mind, and motive to accrue acumen.**_

 **Dumbledore mentioned she could shapeshift and manipulate metal, so I know she is dangerous.**

 _ **This is not entirely accurate. Her real specialty is precious minerals. Gemstones, gold, even copper and iron.**_

 _ **You should avoid her, especially an outright confrontation. She was one of the few who was able to survive me in a duel, that was when she was young. She is likely more powerful now.**_

 **More powerful than yourself or Dumbledore?**

 _ **Perhaps more powerful than me in my state, now, but unlikely to be more potent than your headmaster.**_

 **What willI do if I have to duel her?**

 _ **Die, in all likelihood.**_

 _That's singularly unhelpful._

Since both Grindelwald and Dumbledore seemed to agree that she was bad news, to say the least, Harry did avoid her. She had been welcomed into a guest area on campus that had remained open since the Hogwarts and Durmstrang contingents brought their own housing. Harry dodged that area and common meal times.

Harry had yet to see the woman in question, but he had seen her daughter levitated off the grounds in a green casket along with most of the school. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful within the viridescent stone box.

However, he couldn't escape some things. A member of her entourage, a brutal looking man with a large brow and dark hair would often watch the dueling pits when he was there. Harry learned from the minds of those around him that the man was Danilo Prokopich, an ex-auror and who serviced as a personal bodyguard to the copper-lady herself.

Harry flicked his eyes over to study the broad man dressed in dark clothes. There was something green on the man's shoulder.

Harry doubted his appearance was a coincidence.

Further, Durmstrang students seemed to duel more ferociously in the man's presence.

A fifth-year opponent of Harry's had barely bowed before lashing out with a searing curse, and Harry was forced to shield rather than deflect due to his lack of knowledge about the spell. It was well chosen, as Harry had displayed the means to hold back a pyrokinetic veela in a fit so the judge, who was already managing several duels at once, had no reason to step in.

Harry flicked his wand away from the spell he was trying to cast as he was forced to defend himself and hold his shield in place. The boy had learned well from the mistakes of Harry's previous opponents. Once Harry was set up, he could use his powers to attack from multiple angles at once and control the flow of the duel from there.

Harry was forced to give ground, which only let his opponent box him in more.

A bludgeoning curse was followed by a gentler disarming charm, then followed by a curse Harry didn't recognize, but it did have several similarities to _diffindo_ – at least in terms of wand movement. The boy conjured three birds which rushed forward to harass Harry.

It was a cover to allow him to subtly cast the trauma curse, which Harry allowed to make contact.

The inflow of foreign emotions was ignored as Harry set to work in the slight lull.

Harry flicked his wand and sent a series of the orbs of light he had designed outwards. He summoned the mage lights as bright as he was able and pushed them forwards his foe's face. One of the birds punctured Harry's wand hand with its beak and another lunged for his face.

Harry imagined a net of air around each of the birds and they collided with the bars of nitrogen, trapped in invisible cages. It was relatively easy to do with his wand working as a focus rather than his whole body as an antenna.

Harry squeezed the cages closed, both slicing, and crushing through the birds as though he had them trapped in thin wire, pulling until they popped. That was much more difficult, manipulating air to behave like metal was unnatural and costly.

By the time his opponent recovered Harry had regained control of the duel. With a twist of Harry's wand he grabbed the his enemy's hand with the air and burrowed. His enemy dropped his focus and fell down, clutching his skin had peeled off from muscle on the inside of the flesh, like a large blister.

A bit of a Grindelwald trick.

Harry's opponent would have to try harder than that to get noticed by Prokopich.

It was about networking, trying to impress a man who had the ear of the wealthiest witch in Eurasia. She was the wealthiest in the world, really, if she could be bothered to pull more gold from the ground; a bit like Nicholas Flamel in that respect.

He glanced over to where Daphne sat, watching the duel take place. With Harry's pointers Daphne had risen to the fourth-year dueling level, but she was being beaten fairly badly in that rank, while Harry also left that class behind.

"You need to shower again," she informed him as they rendezvoused and began to make their way out of the courtyard.

"I could just use scourgify."

She wrinkled her nose. "It's not the same as actual hygiene, you know."

He smiled at that.

"Harry, I've been meaning to ask you about Hogsmeade." She spoke quieter as they walked, so he nodded for her to continue. "Did you plan all of that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You went to go see Neville and you separated the group to get to him alone," she elaborated. "But did you plan that? Did you know that if you said that to Tracy, she would respond like that?"

"You can never _know_ how people will react."

" _You_ can," she argued, gesturing vaguely at her forehead. "Did you plan that? Manipulate things?"

"I figured that she would do _something_ , you know how excitable she is." He palmed his jaw. "I didn't _control_ her, if that's what you mean."

"But you influenced it. Or you knew what she would do."

"Not really…but yes," he paused to consider how to explain himself. "Watch." He held out his wand in one hand and dropped it into the other. "Did I control where it fell?"

"Yes, you dropped it," she observed the demonstration with a confused expression. "You caused it to move."

"You're right, but all I did was drop it," Harry continued, latching onto her first statement. "It could, technically speaking, have traveled in any infinite number of directions. However, objects tend to fall when released. _Gravity_ moved it, and I predicted where it would end up."

"I see what you mean, but that doesn't mean you didn't plan it." She flicked her hair over shoulder as they walked. "You expected it, allowed it, then caused it to fall. That's what a plan is. You did the same with Tracy."

"By that logic nearly anything could be called manipulation. You talking me right now to get answers could be classified as manipulation. At any rate, what I did to Neville and Tracy wasn't malicious."

She gave a dainty frown as she puzzled through that. "So, just because it's helpful, that makes entering them right?" Harry wasn't sure she whether she was judging his motivations or just trying to identify them. It made him hesitate.

"I think so," He eventually confessed. "Intent matters."

"Of course you would take such a magical philosophy." She smiled softly.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a moment.

"Susan wanted to ask you for some dueling tutoring."

"Hm." Harry humored her with a considering noise.

"She's just too afraid to ask directly," she continued. "She could be a nice ally to have."

"Ally?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, ally. An associate, a colleague? Friend?" She teased with a smirk. "Her family holds a place in the wizengamot and has a lot of influence in the legal departments. Plus, their traditional power commands some respect."

Harry frowned. He didn't even know what that last bit _meant_. What did that give them? "Why would I need any of those things?"

"You don't think Dumbledore has them? How do you think he pushes policies he likes? I thought you wanted that kind of power," she was giving him a confused look.

Harry didn't know much of anything about politics. Or money, really. If Harry needed something in the future, then he could pretty much just take it. One day there would only be three people who could possibly oppose him. Two of them were teaching him, one of whom was rotting in a tower, and the last of them didn't have a body.

"I've never wanted political power."

"You're going to have it anyway." He gave her a confused look. "What? You have a wizengamot seat waiting for you, and you're the Boy-Who-Lived. Realistically you have some of that power now."

"What do you think I should do?" He asked absently. What would Grindelwald do? Well he would probably just take power. What would Dumbledore do? Harry really didn't know. What had Dumbledore done with his political power in the last fifty years?

"Are you actually interested in this?"

Harry wasn't sure. "Maybe. I've always been more of the scholarly type."

"What should I tell Susan?"

Harry wasn't sure what he should go around sharing his knowledge all the time. Not anymore. If she had asked a month ago he would have been more inclined.

"I suppose I'll think about it."

Daphne smirked. "What do you need to make your decision?"

That reaction threw him further off balance than anything in this discussion so far. "I would like to know her motivations. Why me? What she intends to do? That sort of thing."

"You want to read her mind, then?"

Harry considered that. Then he nodded.

"I'll tell her she should ask you herself, then."

Harry stopped walking and stared at Daphne. "What are you doing?"

"What?" She halted under the intensity of his confusion.

"This. This political thing. Helping Susan. You are pushing for it. Why?"

She looked over at the Hogwarts Train and bit her lip. They were alone, close to the meadow where the train coiled around itself.

"Why shouldn't you? She is pretty, you know."

"I doubt that's why you want me around her."

Harry wasn't an idiot and he was a psychic. He knew she felt something for him. He had been in her mind and felt that confusing ball of emotions inside her chest.

Romance, girlfriends, politics, money, they were all the same to Harry. They were _foreign_ , but he also knew that he felt _something_ about her. What would that mean, though? Harry had no interest in dating. Holding hands and going on dates meant nothing to him. Not really.

In the end what would change if they both suddenly decided to be romantically involved?

Harry himself didn't want anything more than her understanding, her companionship, to touch and interact with her unique mind, whether through words or with his magic.

He already had all that.

Maybe she would want to go out and do things, but would that be different from them visiting Cannes or going to Diagon Alley together? She might want to go to the tournament ball together and Harry could see himself learning to dance, if she asked him to.

He had seen relationships where guys were dragged into doing things they didn't want to do. That they said yes to everything and came when called, like a dog.

Harry couldn't see that happening. Daphne respected him too much to treat him like that and he had dreams to pursue.

But if anyone else in the world had asked him to do this, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.

So, what would change?

Maybe everything or, just maybe, nothing at all.

 _I'm honest enough with myself to admit that I'm ignorant about this._

"You… you know how my family is in a bit of a bind, right?" Harry nodded. She was hesitating. "You having some power, and me being friends with you could help me."

Harry furrowed his brow and said nothing.

"Merlin, saying it like that makes it sound like I'm using you. But you did say you wanted to be like Dumbledore, so I'm also helping you. I don't want you to think badly of me, but I also want this." There was something desperate in that.

It _did_ sound like she was just using him, but that didn't make sense. Not after the last three years, not after she helped him the Dementors or… or any of it.

He was sure their relationship had been beneficial to her, but it had been beneficial to him too. It was symbiotic and trying to break their relationship down into favors cheapened the things which constituted it.

"I'll meet with her." Harry decided at length. She looked at him where before she had avoided eye contact. Her surprised look… stung. It hurt like…

Harry found he had little to compare that pain to.

"Did you think I wouldn't help you?" He asked quietly, wincing internally. That she thought that about him gnawed his insides.

"Sorry," she whispered.

This was hypocritical. He himself had shared almost nothing with her, not because he thought she couldn't help or might refuse, but because he hadn't trusted her. It wasn't quite the same, but it was close. Close enough that it wasn't fair to her to be hurt by that. He shook his head.

"No, no. But you didn't need to do all of this." Harry gestured in the direction they had come from. "Just… in the future, you should know that you can ask me."

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A glance into Susan's eyes was all Harry needed. Her aunt had been a dueling champion at their age, and Susan strongly admired her aunt, wanted to imitate her, even if she herself didn't know it, though Harry suspected that she did.

"Alright, I'll teach you." Harry stood up.

"You will?" Her eyes widened. "Wait, now?"

Daphne gave a small laugh.

"Unless you have something better to do?" Harry continued.

Harry led her out to the clearing to practice, and quickly understood why she had asked for help.

" _Protego_!" She cried, shielding herself from from a rapid barrage spellfire, three spells splashed against it, a fourth impacted the ground in front of her, throwing up a cloud of dirt.

Her shield was good, that had become clear in the first few moments, but she wasn't _moving_.

While her vision was obscured Harry had time to set up the field. He conjured water then froze it when it impacted her skin, immobilizing her, before he knocked her down.

"You didn't say he was this brutal," Susan said to Daphne from the ground.

"Uh, yes I did." Daphne was smirking. "I asked you if you were sure you wanted this three or four times."

"Is there anything he can't do?"

Daphne turned towards Harry and he realized she was waiting for him to answer.

"I can't sing," he confessed.

"Really?" Daphne questioned.

He shook his head. "Not a single note."

"I think we're done." Harry noticed the sweat running down Susan's face. "You should practice dodging." He went to tuck his wand into his robes when he felt a mind, an unfamiliar one touch his senses. He turned around.

A woman in high heels was making her way towards the clearing, almost stumbling over the uneven ground. She had her blonde hair tucked in curls around her face, and brightly colored glasses which made Harry's mind jump to Luna, however this woman was taller, and decidedly more middle aged.

"Mr. Potter!" She called to him as she approached. "Mr. Potter," she repeated now that she was closer, extending a slender hand with brightly painted fingernails. "I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the Daily Prophet. But, of course, you know that, don't you?"

Few people, in all Harry's life had approached him like this. Maybe one; though a comparison to Gilderoy Lockhart didn't do this woman any favors.

Harry shook her hand and looked in her eyes cautiously. To his astonishment he felt shields. He withdrew before she noticed him.

"What can I do for you?"

Her eyes gleamed, though her smile never changed, like her face was plastic.

"Could I ask you a few questions for the Daily Prophet? It will only take a second," she assured after seeing a hint of skepticism, pulling a quill and notepad out a leathery bad. The pair set themselves to levitate near her face.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Don't be modest Harry, can I call you Harry? Harry Potter, the wizard who defeated You-Know-Who and rose like a star in school, yet no one knows anything about you. You've never been interviewed, near as I can tell, and people want to know the truth about you."

Harry recalled how horrified he felt when Hermione had told him on the train that she knew all about him.

Then he recalled how horrified _Hermione_ had been when she learned some of the truth about him.

"Now, Harry, you've published a masterwork on Dementors, what drew you to study such repulsive creatures?"

Harry blinked. "I haven't written anything that could be described as a 'masterwork.'"

The quill scrawled across parchment for an impossibly long time.

"Would you say the tragedy in your past is what drove you to attack Tanyushka Malachite?"

Harry paused. The quill kept scratching.

"What is that writing?" Harry asked.

"Don't mind the quill, sweetheart."

 _Oh, I think I will mind the quill._

"How would you say being raised by muggles affected your demeanor?"

"Harry doesn't do interviews." Daphne had strode forward beside him and made to drag him away.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty little thing. Who are you, dear?"

Harry pulled the pad towards him with the air, and the quill tried to stab at him. He brushed it aside with a wave of his hand.

"'Harry Potter's eye candy shrieked-'" he began reading before the pad was snatched away by a red-clawed hand. "What is this?" He asked.

"Rita Skeeter is a sensationalist journalist. She makes everything up," Daphne informed him.

 _Then why does she bother with interviews?_

"She's right. I don't do interviews." Harry gestured and the pad was turned into confetti, though if Daphne was correct then it didn't matter that her notes were gone.

"I cannot believe this, being assaulted by children. My lawyers will hear about this!"

Harry blinked again, if they broke the law then she should have called Aurors, not lawyers.

"Ms. Skeeter." Harry both relaxed and stiffened when he heard the unfamiliar voice. "Perhaps you should return to the campus. I am sure you are very busy writing about the tournament."

The woman's voice spoke clearly and with inflection, yet it sounded as though she were singing.

Harry turned and noticed Danilo Prokopich before his attention was completely stolen from the large, intimidating, and dangerous man. Beside him was a woman, who was perhaps middle aged, though her features gave her a timeless look. Just as she may have been sixty she could have been thirty. She wore a light green dress with golden ribbons which hung around her in the air, giving her a deifying presence.

 _Oh sh-_

Her hair was dark as coal, and her skin was somehow both pale and bronzed. Her features were angular and she wore fine gemstones which hung from her ears by golden cords. On her head was a circlet of gold and emerald, like a metallic and stone flower. The jewelry which clung to her body glowed from the enchantments forged into them, the arcane practically seeping out of them.

Magically speaking, it was as though a depth charge had been set off next to him.

 _I didn't feel her approach._

She floated closer and Harry felt his family ring shake softly, the precious metals within singing to their mistress.

Harry could see her eyes now, they were the color of molten copper. They had a light to them that Harry had only ever seen in Voldemort's, Dumbledore's, and in the sockets of the man within the Mirror of Erised.

"Off with you, and not a word more," she gave a small gesture in Ms. Skeeter's direction. The movement was small, hardly existent, and dismissive, yet seemed almost magnanimous. As though Rita should feel privileged and honored to have earned so much of the woman's attention.

As suave as Skeeter seemed to be, no amount of charisma mattered now.

Malachite probably wasn't going to kill him, or at least that's what he told himself. Not with witnesses. Unless she was wealthy and powerful enough that she intended to kill all of them and it didn't matter because no one would dare touch her.

This is exactly where Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to be.

Harry found that he couldn't step back, though he wanted to.

He was fairly sure this was how moths felt about flames.

"Now," she turned her attention to him. When had she gotten so close? She could have reached out and touched him. "Mr. Potter, I had very much hoped to talk to you." Her English was cool and entirely accentless.

Harry felt Prokopich step beside him. He tore his eyes away and towards the man.

Occlumency shields.

That was expensive for a hired man. Or perhaps the man was, more concerningly, _loyal_ for reasons other than money.

"I don't think we've met," he addressed her.

She gave a soft ringing laugh, Harry almost swayed in the sound for a heartbeat and realized he was clenching his teeth. "No we have not. I wish to speak to you about my daughter."

She skipped over introductions, towards the matter at hand. Harry could relate to that.

"What do you think about her condition?"

"It's a tragedy," Harry answered.

Harry could feel Prokopich tense nearby.

"Mm," she allowed him a small noise. "My expectation was that you know something about mind magic. I had hoped for a more clinical response." She paced lightly.

What she didn't say was that he would give her one, that he would do best not to let her expectations down.

"I never interacted with her mind, I never saw the damages. Though her total lack of response is indicative."

"My mind healer here spoke similarly…"

Daphne and Susan looked like they were holding their breath. The Earth hummed in time the lady's words and when she trailed off so too did the ground. It was an intimidating effect. Enough so that even though he knew it was happening and that she was doing it to unnerve him, it worked anyway.

She stopped pacing and turned towards Harry. "I dismissed him from my service."

Harry felt cornered in the open field.

"With my daughter's recovery underway-"

Harry thought it was doubtful but the woman spoke with such surety that he almost believed her.

"-and her safety assured, I can begin to find the ones responsible."

He had followed the woman with his eyes and turned his back to Prokopich. The man laid a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder at her words.

The bodyguard jumped at the charge Harry shocked him with, a small reminder, and Harry turned to look the man in the eyes.

 _Warning. High Voltage._

He turned back towards the Malachite lady, he could see her wand at her waist. A white crystal shaft, it was almost transparent. Along the length and inside a soft golden light flickered.

"My understanding is that Ms. Faere left campus."

"Ms. Faere will be found," she sung. "Though it pains me to pursue my Daughter's friends."

Her tone implied that she should not have to chase them, that they should have come to her and groveled, or thrown themselves on her metaphorical sword.

"Then there is you." Fury slipped into her tone. "I am informed that it was you who suggested such drastic measures." Her voice became cool once again. Her inflections were like a twisting metal edge, spinning through the conversation, rarely cutting, but becoming more jagged as the conversation ran on.

"I don't believe that you will find a court willing to convict me." Unless she owns all of them, which may be true.

She graced him with another laugh. "Indeed, I doubt you can be tried. However, that is _not_ the same as being innocent!"

The last words were almost a snarl. The ground trembled under him and he could hear the Hogwarts Express let out several loud metal screeches.

He almost went for his wand, but knew it wouldn't help him right now. Her bodyguard could kill him, she could kill him. His only saving grace was that Rita Skeeter had seen her with him and, if Harry died, likely wouldn't be able to pass up the story.

"Sometimes it is." Harry was thinking about the Death Eaters who had escaped being convicted as he said it.

She gave a small chuckle, from any other woman it would have been a giggle, but Madam Malachite did not giggle. "Quite right. I expect to see you again, Mr. Potter. Thank you for your time."

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Harry moved immediately towards the Hogwarts Express, ignoring both Susan and Daphne. His compartment was empty so he pulled Daphne's box out of his dresser from beneath his invisibility cloak. He opened it and withdrew Grindelwald's parchment, carefully folded.

 **I just talked to Madam Malachite. I'm fairly sure she wants to kill me. I need something that can counter her.**

 _ **There is no single spell that will allow you to defeat her, though I hope that you aren't so foolish as to actually be seriously requesting one. Perhaps my grimoire may be of some assistance.**_

 **You wrote a grimoire?**

 _ **Of course I did.**_

Harry felt a surge of greed rise inside him, nearly enough to swallow his fear of Azovka Malachite. He wanted that book. Wanted it as much as he wanted to know about Horcruxes.

He considered several responses but they were all… too pleading. Submissive. He racked his mind. How could he ask for it without sounding like he was begging? He was Grindelwald's apprentice of sorts. Wasn't he supposed to receive the spell book of his… teacher?

 _I'm not calling him my master._

 **Does this book still exist?**

 _ **Yes. I know where it and my collection remain.**_

 **They haven't been discovered?**

 _ **You likely would have heard of it, had they been.**_

 **Will you tell me where?**

 _ **I shall. In person.**_

Harry stiffened and flexed his fingers. He wanted that book, he wanted the collection. As Grindelwald's psuedo-apprentice it belonged to him. Breaking into Nurmengard wouldn't be easy. In fact, it was considered impossible to break both into and out of.

It was as much a work of art as it was a fortress. Each stone held enchantments.

How to get in? How to get past everything? He would have to leave Cannes first, apparate as close as he could. He could probably find it using the memories of German wizards, break into the mind of a high ranking German auror to get the location.

That was just the first part. He would have to sneak in, avoid detection by both guards and wards, and find Grindelwald within.

 **Do you have a plan for that?**

 _ **That shall be your task. A solution shall present itself to you, if you follow my instruction.**_

Harry shook it off. He'd focus on it later, but the hunger in his chest was hard to deny. So far, he had been relying on Grindelwald's memory, and he had gotten far on it, but the former Dark Lord had been stuffed in a tower for half a century.

The thought of getting his hands on the man's notes, his real notes and collection was almost enough to make him salivate. He would kill for it.

That realization shocked him.

 _I would, in fact, literally kill for it._

He shook it off.

Malachite was his clear and present danger.

 **How do you defeat a shapeshifter?**

 _ **You pin them down. Limit their space.**_

That was pretty good advice, but the entire Earth was Malachite's ally. How could he possibly pin her down?

 **And if you can't.**

 _ **They will escape.**_

This was why she had survived Grindelwald. She could escape.

There was a knock at the door.

"Harry? Are you there?"

He hid the parchment and opened the door.

"Yes."

Daphne breathed and eyed him up and down. "Harry what was that?" She didn't demand it of him, he appreciated that. It was one of those things that always separated her from Hermione.

"Azovka Malachite. She blames me for what happened to her daughter."

"Is she going to have you tried?" She looked at him pleadingly. "I can help with that, I know wizarding law better than you do."

"She won't have my tried, if anything I suspect she'll try and kill me."

Daphne let out a long sigh and shook her head. Harry could smell sweet honey as her hair twisted in time with her head. "You 'suspect?'"

Harry frowned and nodded. "I'm not sure."

"Whenever you say 'I suspect' you're usually right." Her lips were turned up in slight amusement. "Come on, you still need a shower before dinner."

Harry cocked his head. He wasn't a regular at the usual meal times.

"You forgot, didn't you?" She was still giving him a light smile. "Only you would forget. The Goblet is choosing its champions today."

Harry wrinkled his face. "I don't care about the tournament. I'll-"

"-Probably just go to the library?" She finished his sentence with a roll of her eyes. "I should have figured." She stepped backwards out into the corridor. She turned around to leave before she stopped. "Harry?" She faced him again. "I hope that one day you talk to me."

"I do talk to you." Harry spoke almost exclusively to her.

She made a slight exacerbated noise. "I mean about things like this. I want to know. You knew something about Malachite before she showed up just now. You can share that with me. Just-" She hesitated. "It's like you said earlier. You can trust me, Harry."

"I trust you more than anyone."

"That's still not very much." She stepped back in, right up to him until she was looking up at him with her heart shaped face. "Aren't you tired of being alone?"

Harry flinched. The brightness of her face was too much to look at, so he turned his head away.

"You don't have to cut me out, you know that, right?"

Harry nodded. He felt it. The stress of it all. The Horcruxes, the pressure to outshine Dumbledore, Malachite, the Dursley's. All of it.

"I want to show you where I grew up," Harry whispered. "I have for a while now, I think. There are advantages. I hoped that you would tell me how my muggle family died but… I want to show you." He looked at her again. She was still shining.

"Harry you don't need to-"

"-I do want to." He paused. "I really do."

She gave him a less brittle, easier to look at, smile. A more earnest one.

"Thank you."

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" _Now, as she lay in the grass watching him, listening to the otherworldly music, she wondered again if he would ever feel for her what she had long felt for him." - Pavel Bazhov, The Malachite Box_

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 _Because I like to discuss things, I made a forum for this story. Link in Profile._

 _Removed a bad joke that only I thought was funny._

 **\- WG**


	17. Three of Wands

**Beta:** Digitize27

 _I answer questions about this story on by forum. Link in profile._

 **Things are changing now that the semester ended. Stay tuned for scheduling updates as I get my situations under control.**

 **I wanted to also thank you all for making this story the most followed Fanfiction published in the last six months.**

 **Further, I have gotten some concerns about this story incorporating the 'Unavoidable' Graveyard scene. It won't.**

 **I want to apologize to any fans of Russian folklore. I will be butchering it in the name of plot. (Even more than I have so far.) So if you see something and you think 'that's not right' then you are most likely correct.**

 **I only have snippets of the tale in question here but it is possible for those interested to find the whole thing online with a quick search.**

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" _Hell hath no fury" - William Congreve_

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Daphne slowed her heartbeat as she stepped off the train. She tried to use her occlumency exercises to remove the slight body buzz he gave her,walking on slightly shaky legs. Occlumency just made her think of him more. Thinking of him more just reminded her how close they had stood where he looked down on her with those bright eyes. His dark wild hair had been matted to his forehead with the light sweat he had worked up dueling.

The gentle odor of him still tickled her nose, the light tang of ozone could be picked out amongst his smell.

Was it bad that she found the light scent of his sweat and his worked form attractive?

 _Get it together, get it together, get it together…_

She sung in her thoughts.

What must he think of her, she had almost fled from confronting him once, then at the end of their conversation she did so anyway.

 _Running away. Yeah, that's very attractive._

She was able to push the thought away. Harry probably hadn't even really noticed, let alone cared about something like that. Unless he had been in her thoughts, then he would know everything. Then he would care simply because _she_ cared. That would be terrib-

 _Not so bad, really._

She shoved those conflicting thoughts away, too.

"So… what was that about?" Susan joined her as she walked to the dining hall, interrupting Daphne's internal ramblings.

"That was the woman whose daughter tried to cross the age line using a memory charm," Daphne broke herself out of her thoughts and refocused to answer. "She holds Harry responsible, evidently." Shemuttered the last bit.

"I caught that part." Susan was giving Daphne an appraising look and they walked quietly for a few paces.

"He's adjusted well to the wizarding world, don't you think?" She asked, breaking the tenuous silence.

"Who? Harry?" Daphne started, surprised. She had been sinking into her thoughts again.

Susan rolled her eyes. "Of course Harry. Usually when someone is raised muggle it takes them forever to fit in. Just look at Granger."

"I suppose he has. He never really fit into the muggle world, though." Daphne hesitated. "What do you mean by 'just look at Granger?'"

"Well she doesn't understand magic, does she? She even does magic in such a muggle way. I mean don't get me wrong, she's good at it but… do you know what I mean? It's hard to- like, look at what she's doing with house elves. Her perspective is just so… muggle."

"What's this about house elves?" Daphne asked.

"I heard she trying to free them in Hogwarts."

"Did no one tell her that they'll die? That they like working?"

Susan just shook her head. "Evidently not. But that's the point though, Harry had none of that."

"Well Harry isn't exactly-"

"Normal, obviously." Daphne could tell that Susan had to fight rolling her eyes again. "He's a bit barmy."

"Harry isn't barmy," Daphne defended immediately. "Everything he does is for a reason."

 _Usually more than one._

"It's like I told you on the train," Daphne continued. "Unless you do something to him he'll leave you alone, and if you ask he'll usually help."

"It's the asking part that's intimidating, though." Susan pointed out. "And, I mean, when you said he wanted to see me before he taught me anything, he just took one look and agreed. It's weird, even for a wizard. Thanks for convincing him, by the way."

"I only convinced him to see you," Daphne reminded. "And you didn't lie to him, which helps."

"I still don't get that."

"Harry doesn't like being lied to, and he can always tell."

"You didn't warn me about that!" Susan protested.

"It would have just scared you."

"It would really help you convince everyone that he isn't scary if you didn't say things like that." Susan waved her off. "At any rate, I can still get you the case file."

"You said you wouldn't be able to sneak into DMLE records until summer," Daphne gave Susan a surprised look.

"That hasn't changed, but I'll still get your father's file for you. You don't need to worry about my side, is all. You just make sure your terrifying boyfriend teaches me and I'll get it for you."

"Harry will keep his word," Daphne affirmed.

They stepped into the dining area and took their seats to watch the presentation of the cup choosing its champions. The Copper Lady took her seat at the head table as a guest of honor, looking on dispassionately on the stream of students. The lumbering man stood behind her quietly and impassively.

Daphne felt a familiar little rush of jealousy when she looked again at the regal stature of the woman. Sure, she knew she was a beautiful girl, but she wasn't _womanly_. She found herself wondering if she could ever have that same distant duchess disposition.

At best, Daphne sat at her table, the lukewarm princess of Slytherin, while there, across the room, presided the Stone-Cold Empress of Russia.

The woman gave Daphne a small, stately smile, her eyes filled with a sort of amusement. Daphne looked away.

"Harry's a no-show again?" Michael asked.

Daphne shook her head, "he doesn't care about the tournament."

The hall was swollen with students, all wearing their official uniforms. Highmaster Karkaroff's beard was neatly trimmed and Madam Maxine wore elegant silks embroidered in the colors of her school. It was more of a feast compared to the usual set meals, and the British Head of the Department of International Cooperation sat back in conversation with his French equivalent.

Dumbledore made a slight gesture with his wand and the room dimmed as Madam Maxine stepped forward.

" _The Goblet has made its decision, I feel. When the representatives' names are released I shall call them_." She paused her booming voice for a moment. " _The first task is set for Saturday, November the Fifth, and shall test both the resolve and daring of the champions._ "

She stepped across to hover next to the Goblet in the center of the room.

The flames inside the goblet sparked and flashed crimson, a wisp from the cup released a charred piece of parchment into the air. The ribbon floated downward in a pendulum fashion briefly before it was caught, a large hand reaching out to snatch the delicate paper.

Daphne had to blink in surprise because she hadn't expected the large woman to be so dexterous.

" _The champion for Durmstrang shall be Viktor Krum,_ " her booming voice carried.

"The Quidditch player?" Daphne turned to her table for confirmation only to receive a shrug from Su and an astonished look and affirming nod from Ernie.

"I can't think of a better competitor myself," Ernie informed them in his pompous manor.

Viktor received cheers and rose for the applause before returning to his seat even as his Highmaster praised him.

" _The champion for Beauxbatons shall be none other than-_ " the large woman grabbed the paper from the air again, " _Fleur Delacour_."

The Veela girl rose to her feet in a graceful fashion and tossed her hair over her shoulder in such a smooth motion that Daphne wanted to curse her. She must not have been the only one who didn't like the selection because two other Beauxbatons members broke down into tears and she could see forlorn expressions on some of the faces.

"Would you quit drooling!" Su Li smacked Michael's arm hard.

"Er...I...uh-hey!" Michael managed in protest.

The Veela sat back down as the flames rose again from the stone goblet and out flew the last ribbon.

" _The Hogwarts champion is… Harry Potter?_ "

The hall was silent, and Daphne immediately felt heads and eyes fall upon their group before whispering broke out. Daphne was stunned, and she was sure she gaped like Michael had just done.

Harry had told her he wasn't interested in the tournament. He had no interest in things like the tournament. Had never displayed any desire to be involved in any capacity with this tournament. It didn't make any sense.

Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet and his gaze swept the area until it landed on her. She felt a touch just barely on the inside of her skull. She almost leaned into the familiar brush before she paused.

It wasn't Harry. First of all, she knew that Harry wasn't here so it wasn't him.

But it also didn't feel like him, it was more… rough? Calloused? That wasn't accurate. The fingers against her were gentle but the mind felt… they felt like not-Harry. They were non-Harry. They lacked the quintessential Harry-ness that all of Harry's probes felt like that made it abundantly clear that this was, truly, not Harry.

She jumped and rocked backward emptying her thoughts and twisting her mind away from the fingers, it was the strategy that worked best against Harry in their practice. Just don't give the intruder any hold.

"Ms. Greengrass," Dumbledore began quietly from his where he stood. If he was surprised by her resistance to him it didn't show on his face. "You wouldn't happen to know Mr. Potter's whereabouts would you?"

She cleared her throat, "he mentioned the library, sir."

Dumbledore made a contemplative noise. Before he returned to his seat.

He wasn't smiling.

Madam Maxine had turned back to Dumbledore and rose to an impressive height. Something must have made her words falter and though Karkaroff turned towards Dumbledore with a smile that never reached his eyes, he opened his mouth and closed it again.

Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling.

The large woman turned back to the crowd of students and silenced it with her presence. " _These are your Triwizard Tournament contenders. Please wish them the best of luck and be sure to cheer for them this coming Saturday._ "

It was a dismissal and some students rose to leave but many more stayed, rejoining in gossiping circles.

" _I believe that it shall be curfew shortly,_ " Madam Maxine hammered. This time everyone rose from their seats.

Dumbledore was sweeping towards the exit in an orderly fashion, looking as powerful and wizened as ever. He didn't even appear to be in a rush.

"I thought you said he wasn't interested in the tournament," Susan tapped Daphne's shoulder.

"I thought he said he couldn't get through," Michael continued.

Daphne stuttered, "he couldn't… he wasn't… he thought…" She shook her head and stood, rushing to catch the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" He didn't so much as glance at her nor did he change his pace.

"Ms. Greengrass, I apologize for the intrusion. That was quite rude of me. I wished to find out more as soon as possible. That is no excuse, but as Harry's closest friend it was possible that you may know something about this. Though, I should have expected his closest confidant to be proficient with mind magic, an oversight on my part."

As much as she wanted to be offended her emotions were too rampant to stomach another competitor.

"Sir, he doesn't care about the tournament, something must be wrong."

"You believe that he didn't enter his name?"

That was the big question. Did she trust what Harry had told her even in the face of everything that shouted that he had, in fact, lied to her.

"Yes," she affirmed. It didn't even take that long to process. Aside from not being in his character, he would have been here to see the fruits of his labor if he had.

 _And I don't think he would lie to me._

Did she want to think that he wouldn't lie to her? Could she even trust her own thoughts around Harry?

"He wouldn't have put his name in the cup. He didn't!"

Dumbledore slowed his walk just for a moment and finally turned towards her.

"You suspect foul play?"

The Green Empress smirked down at Dumbledore. The headmaster only shook his head.

"Please return to the Hogwarts Express, Ms. Greengrass," Dumbledore continued quietly. "I shall collect Mr. Potter."

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*And one of the merchants drew out of his pocket a little casket, and he had no sooner opened it than a lovely garden spread out all over the island, with fragrant flowers and pleasant paths; but when he shut the casket the garden immediately disappeared.

The second merchant drew from beneath the folds of his garment an axe, and began to tap with it: "Rap-tap!" out came a ship. "Rap-tap!" out came another ship. A hundred times he rapped, and made a hundred ships with sails and guns and crews complete; the ships sailed, and the sailors stood by the guns and took orders from the merchant.

The merchant gloried in it for a while, but then he concealed his axe and the ships vanished out of sight just as if they had never been.

The third merchant produced a horn, blew into one end of it, and immediately an army appeared, both horse and foot, with cannons and banners, and through all the ranks went the roll of martial music, and the armour of the warriors flashed like fire in the sunlight. The merchant rejoiced in it all, then he took his horn and blew into the other end of it, and there was nothing to be seen, the whole of that martial might was no more.*

Harry was most of the way through this Russian story and he had yet to see whatever it was that the former Dark Lord had wanted him to see in it.

Unless it really was just a fictional recommendation for some reading material. That made Harry pause. He hadn't even considered that.

In which case Grindelwald had wasted his time.

Harry nearly jumped at the rap against the door. A long flowing white beard and garish golden robes loomed outside. Harry curled his hand and the door opened in response to his magic.

"Sir?"

"We missed you at dinner tonight, Harry." Dumbledore paced comfortably into the room.

"I've been avoiding common meal times."

"Because of Madam Malachite?" Dumbledore seemed a little surprised.

"It seemed wise given your advice."

"She scares you," Dumbledore stated, taking a seat at the table.

"She dueled Grindelwald."

"Ah."

"You seem surprised, sir."

"I suppose I am surprised that I am not surprised. I should have expected that you would know that." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and reclined slightly. "What do you know about the history of the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Not much. I know it was cancelled when the audience was killed by a rampaging beast," Harry answered honestly.

"You don't know more about the history of the tournament?"

Harry shook his head.

"Ah." Dumbledore seemed slightly pleased. "Harry, your name came out of the Goblet of Fire."

Harry was sure he blinked dumbly like one of Malfoy's lackeys before he mastered himself.

"What?"

"You seem surprised. But I must ask you whether you put your name into the goblet."

Harry thumbed his jaw and shook his head. "No sir, I've been-" - _hiding_ \- "-busy." He gestured to the room.

Dumbledore nodded and stroked his beard. "I believe you Harry. I very much doubt that you couldn't get past my line, however, you would most assuredly have read more about the tournament if it had caught your interest."

Harry wanted to scowl at the sorcerer's clever approach.

"Is there a way out for me?"

"I'm afraid that the magics of the Goblet are quite compelling."

"Compelling how?" Harry asked.

"There are punishments in place if one chooses not to compete and their name came out. The magic can force you to move down to the agreed places for the tournament, inflict pain, or it can even reward you for following its directives."

"Like the imperius curse." Harry's mind clicked the comparison.

"Yes." Dumbledore stroked his beard while eyeing Harry pensively. "Though there are other things the cup can do, these are some of the most basic. It's rare that a person persists in resisting the goblet even after these afflictions."

"Can I break the spell?"

"The spell could be shattered, but bear in mind it is a powerful magical artefact. Attempting to overwhelm it could kill you or cause you harm."

"So I have to compete," Harry affirmed.

"You don't have to, Harry. Very rarely will your life be divided into necessities. We always have our choices and they always stand by us, even if it seemed our only option at the time. Though I would encourage you to not fight the Goblet. Withstanding it may indeed be more dangerous than the tournament."

"I'll have to start reading about the tournament, then."

"The first task is this Saturday, but there will be a weighing of wands on Wednesday. You'll be excused from classes for it."

"So soon?"

"The first task is designed to test the boldness of the champions. Giving you time would only test your cleverness in discovering what the test was and how to overcome it." The Headmaster's eyes twinkled.

"Cheating, you mean."

"Now Harry, if I'm not mistaken it is getting rather close to your curfew." Dumbledore ignored him and rose from the seat he had occupied in a smooth motion.

"Wait, what about Malachite?"

The Headmaster's face twitched towards a scowl for only a moment. "I take it you believe that she is somehow responsible for this? Your friend, Ms. Greengrass, seemed to believe the same."

"She does want to kill me, she as good as told me so herself when she cornered me."

"She has put us in a bit of a bind, yes? It certainly appears as though I am playing favorites to my legal charge and this shall cast shade on my political positions and even my competency as Headmaster." Harry must have appeared alarmed because the professor continued. "I don't want you worrying about politics, Harry. I must ask you to focus on surviving the tournament and to trust me."

"That isn't to say that you should ignore Madam Malachite, I fancy that would be a poor decision, and as matter of fact, I would consider it a personal favor were you to get into the habit of carrying your father's cloak with you. One should never underestimate the value of avoiding confrontations."

"My cloak?" Harry asked. "Meer invisibility won't hide me from her."

"Your cloak is an exceptional artifact, indeed, I believe you could have used it to cross my age ward."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. It is quite the extraordinary device." Dumbledore left with a wink.

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"There has to be _some_ way to get you out of the tournament." Daphne joined him in the library in the early morning. He smiled when he felt her approach. She had never for a moment thought that he had put his name in. Never for a moment doubted him. He felt a rush of fondness towards her.

He touched her mind in greeting. For a moment he hung there, wanting nothing more than to dive a little deeper. He battled the temptation and rested against the edge of her skull. Somewhere between being isolated and being surrounded.

He knew she could feel it from the flurry of activity his touch induced but she didn't protest. Instead she sat down and scanned his workspace. "What are these?"

"Now that I am competing in the tournament I decided to research its history." Harry flicked to the next page in a thick tome about the subject. "The first task seems to involve beasts or dangerous traps. They always have a simple goal, though."

Harry read through an article about a tournament task that surrounded getting past dragons. Dragons were pretty bad.

"We have to get you out of the tournament," Daphne insisted. "How does the Goblet force you to compete?" Harry ran through another article before Daphne hit his arm. "Harry!"

"According to Dumbledore the Goblet can inflict punishments on those who don't compete. Often horrific ones."

"That seems like a magical contract." Daphne pursed her lips.

"Or like the imperius curse," He agreed, ignoring the odd feelings that came from Daphne when he said that.

"Since you're not seventeen you can't enter a contract," Daphne tried.

"The Goblet predates modern wizarding law," Harry countered. "It doesn't care."

"Well since you didn't enter your name it wasn't you, so while it can compel someone to compete, it doesn't have to be you. It should strike out against the person who put your name in."

"The Goblet only cares about the name that went in." Harry looked up, considering. "I suppose if you found another Harry Potter from Hogwarts, then they could compete in my place, but aside from that…"

"So there's no way to get you out?"

Her concern felt warm against his chest. His probe touched a little deeper to relish the affection. Harry shook his head with a smile. "Which is why I am focusing on surviving it."

"And Malachite," Daphne reminded. "You know that she put you in the tournament, right?"

"Dumbledore thinks so too," Harry agreed nodding. "She's also causing him political problems."

"How so?"

"He said that it reflects poorly on him; that his legal ward got through his line and is competing despite all the rules."

"I can see how that can be an issue," Daphne ran that through her mind a few times. "Lucius Malfoy is always looking for a reason to remove him as Headmaster. Someone might even try to move you from out of his care." Daphne gave Harry a slightly exasperated look. "You have a Godfather right? Sirius Black?"

Harry nodded. "He was ruled unfit for guardianship."

"That was fourteen years ago." Daphne pink lips stayed pursed in thought. "It'll cause Dumbledore problems to try and defend you. It'll be a conflict of interest since he'd be guardian, lawyer, and Chief Warlock. Plu,s this happened to you while under his care as Headmaster and when he is supposed to be neutral for the tournament. Which doesn't look good for his international relations at the ICW."

"Daphne." Harry set his book down. "I need you to pretend, for just a moment, that I have no idea what you are talking about."

She laughed but rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it. It's just a bit of scandal for him. All you need to know is that if the question of his guardianship over you is brought up, he'll have to call in a lot of favors to keep it."

"And that's bad?"

"It isn't good." Daphne considered for a moment. "All of Dumbledore's posts, Mugwump, Chief Warlock, and Headmaster, are all politically neutral offices. Hell, Headmaster isn't really an office, just a respected position. He's so powerful because he stays _neutral_. Sure, he does push policies with certain voting blocks in the Wizengamot using people who are his allies. But he keeps so much power because he is respected, because he stays neutral and makes Britain look good. You know? Like bragging rights in the international community."

"This favoritism looks bad on him and you getting selected at this whole international affair makes Britain look bad. He has a seat at the ICW as Mugwump because he is supposed to be an internationally trusted figure. He's supposed to be neutral and not favor Britain, let alone his own legal charge and educational prodigy."

"So people now have ammunition against him," Harry tried.

"That's a good way of putting it, but it's not the whole picture. It's also a blow to his reputation, and Dumbledore's political influence comes from his reputation. It's also not good for you. It makes you look like a brat who gets what he wants because he's famous and has a powerful 'Dad.'" Daphne bit her lip. "But _you_ shouldn't worry about that. _You_ should focus on living."

Harry snorted. "I'll do my best. Which is why I should be researching."

"They aren't going to use the same events."

"But they should be similar." Harry thumbed his jaw. "There are common threads. See, this one involved getting past some dragons and collecting a clue for the next task." Harry pointed the article out for her in the book. "And this one was just a measurement of the amount of time the champions could withstand Dementors." He pointed to the next one. "This one here was escaping an acromantula nest. Two of them died in that one. They all seem to involve magical creatures."

"So you're just going to come up with a plan to beat every magical creature?" Daphne dripped sarcasm.

"I was just hoping that it will involve snakes." Harry cut back facetiously, closing the book for emphasis. Daphne gave a soft giggle.

Daphne stood up again. "Well I'm going to get breakfast. I don't suppose you want to come with me?" Harry shook his head.

He released her as she left, lingering as though they had parted after holding hands, still reaching out.

Harry drew Grindelwald's sheet of paper out of his stacks.

 _I've finished reading 'Go I know not whither and fetch I know not what.'_

 **And?**

 _I'm not sure I saw what you were hoping I would._

 **The magical artefacts. The wand, the cloak, and the stone.**

 _The only comparable artefacts were the axe, casket, and horn._

 **You read the muggle version. Find the magical version.**

That's rather frustrating. Harry shook that feeling aside. Grindelwald's help had been invaluable, a single evening of wasted time wasn't an expensive price for all that he had gained from the convict.

 _It seems likely that I will be confronting a powerful magical creature soon._

 **Why?**

 _Malachite entered me into the Triwizard tournament to kill me and the first task usually involves one._

 **What sorts of creatures?**

Grindelwald's concern for his heir was shining through.

 _Dragons, manticores, chimeras. A rogue cockatrice killed half the spectators last time and so it was cancelled until now. The creatures are typically featured from the XXXX or higher category of creatures._

 **You aren't expected to battle these creatures.**

 _Usually the task doesn't revolve around actually fighting the creature. The task involving dragons was about stealing from their nest._

 **That might be have been more dangerous than just battling it. You must attempt to discover what the creature is, there is no counter to the unknown.**

 _That would be cheating._

 **Would you rather die?**

Grindelwald had a good point.

 _And if I can't find a way to learn about it?_

 **A few personal wards would help you survive. Not only in this but in the world at large. A flame retarding spell for your clothes. An acid repelling ward. Basic spells that those who handle such creatures are versed in would be useful. Transfiguring your skin into stone or metal would help.**

Harry had been noting the ideas with agreement and forming a mental list and frowned at the last one.

 _My self-transfiguration is not nearly that good._

 **How would you rate your skill?**

 _Practically non-existent._

 **Sloppy of you. I was self-transfiguring when I was twelve. And your conjuration?**

Though he wanted to defend himself, he ignored the abrasive nature of the warlock in favor of the advice and question.

 _I can do about twenty kilos before I'm exhausted._

Harry confessed, scratching it with a quill into the paper. His conjuration was NEWT-level but he knew Grindelwald could summon metric tons of material. He had seen it in the duel, after all.

 **How is it that the apprentice of Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald is a poor transfigurer? That will need to be rectified.**

He felt he was a better transfigurer than most by far.

 **For now, I will teach you several personal wards I designed. Blade ward and life repelling shell.**

Harry grinned. This was why he put up with the former Dark Lord's attitude.

 **The incantation for the blade ward is** _ **mucruitio**_ **. The wand movement is a diagonal slash bearing one-hundred-and-fifty degrees downwards followed by a sixty degree clockwise twist. It is designed to surround the caster with edges that will bite into anything close. Do not imagine surrounding yourself with lasting blades of air. This is would be exhaustive. Instead imagine transfiguring the space around you into something sharp. You'll want to cast it while not standing close to things you care about.**

 **The incantation for the shell is** _ **repello vivem**_ **and its function is exactly as it sounds. From a point centered on you, living things won't be able to approach unless the spell is broken. This ward will not stop inferi, inanimate objects or spells. The wand movement is a clockwise rotation from forwards ninety degrees before snapping back. You will want to imagine a resistance deep in your bones to all things alive and charm them away.**

 **Go practice.**

The instructions were vague but as Harry frantically copied the instructions into his notebook before the ink could fade, he felt confident he could manage the spells within the week. He stood from his room and gathered a book on magical creature care which held several spells that one should consider casting on themselves before handling them.

He smirked inwardly as he realized he really was coming up with a plan to beat every creature. Daphne would get a kick out of that.

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Harry ignored any stares he received and no one seemed comfortable confronting him. Perhaps the lesson that challenging him was a bad idea was finally starting to sink in.

Or perhaps not. Tuesday, outside of the Hogwarts express, Harry clawed his fingers and the brave seventeen-year-old Gryffindor, Alicia Spinnet, who had challenged him, choked on nothing when the air around her stopped responding to the movement of her lungs.

He took a deep breath to show off that he could as her hands went to her chest and eyes bugged out slightly.

"Either I didn't trick the Goblet and my name came out, indicating I am the greatest possible champion for Hogwarts. Or-" he took another exaggerated inhalation of fresh salty air as Spinnet finally fell to her knees, "-or I did trick the Goblet, making my magical puissance far greater than yours." He paused again before continuing slowly. "Neither of which _you_ can be particularly upset about." On his last syllable he released her and strode towards Beauxbatons.

He had heard, through Daphne, that the several seventh-years for Hogwarts who had put their name in were also furious.

The other schools were too, allegedly. He couldn't see why. They should be happy that their seventh-year competition from Hogwarts had been replaced by a mere fourth-year ''ittle boy.'

Dumbledore had been asked very politely to step down from his position as tournament judge and he had graciously agreed. Harry could only imagine the real political storm that the headmaster was weather in his more important positions.

Wednesday, Harry found himself waiting, nearly thirty minutes early, in a courtyard garden draped with flowering vines and pale blue trellises. Madam Maxine towered in, followed closely by Fleur Delacour next. Maxxine seemed content to dismiss Harry but Ms Delacour gave him a rather foul look. Then came the French Manager of International Relations, Antonio Badinter, who came in speaking amiably with a slim witch Harry had no name or identity for. Last waltzed in Highmaster Karkaroff with yellowed teeth flashing and an arm draped around Victor Krum whose brows were furrowed tightly. Krum gave Harry a look like he was trying to decide what kind of mental box Harry should be sorted into or like he was attempting a difficult puzzle. He at least didn't seem particularly hostile towards him.

" _Will Dumbledore not be joining us?_ " Badinter looked around with dark eyes. " _It's getting about time._ " He finally settled on Harry, expecting him to respond.

" _My understanding was that Dumbledore no longer has any official capacity over the tournament._ " Harry answered in clear French. " _Why would he join us?_ "

Badinter nodded his head in a bobbing fashion. He had a long mustache and goatee which seemed content to join in on the movement. " _Yes well. Can't be helped. In fact, I suppose it was to be expected. At any rate it is my pleasure to introduce you all to Madame Perenelle Flamel._ " Harry's eyes snapped to the woman. " _As you can imagine, she is experienced with alchemy and wandlore as much as any other you could bear to name. She'll be examining your wands this afternoon._ "

She didn't look a day over forty, though Harry knew full well she was over five centuries old. With short cut red hair and robes held in place with thin twine. She could easily have worn a dress made of solid gold and the finest riches, instead her robes looked worn down and well-loved as Harry's old clothing back at Privet Drive had been.

She glanced around them with a free smile until her eyes settled on Victor Krum. " _Why don't we start with you. Last to arrive and first to go and what not._ " Her words were full of an odd timeless mirth, so no real offense could be taken from them. Krum waddled his way forward and held his wand out from the pocket of his robes, his hands barely receding as though to grab his wand back quickly. Harry could relate to that feeling.

" _Ah, a Gregorovitch family wand if ever there was one. Highly stylized and what not, what with these knots here and here. Who is the current living wand maker from the Gregorovitch family? I'm afraid I've forgotten._ "

She turned back towards Badinter for an answer but it was Krum who responded. "Mykew Gregorovitch."

She gave a soft 'hmm' and returned to the wand, nodding slightly as she did. " _Hornbeam and dragon heartstring. A classic Ollivander-esque core. A larger radius than average and non-flexible. Ten and a quarter inches._ " She gave it a slight flick and a vase came out fully formed to land in the crook of her elbow. " _This wand is in perfect condition._ " She returned it to Krum's still waiting hands.

She gestured for him to shew away with a gesture of her hands and turned towards Ms. Delacour. " _Now you darling may I see…_ " She accepted the proffered wand. " _Customized, oh yes, very customized. Nine and a half inches with an unusual core. Rose if I'm not mistaken. I'm afraid I don't recognize the maker's style, though they were unusually competent to get such a core to work - well. Nevertheless_." She punctuated herself by jabbing the wand forward. Flowers, sweet roses and orchids fell into an outstretched hand placed to catch them. " _Lovely, yes quite so. It's all in working order, assuming such a tempermental match works for you._ "

" _Now for you, let me see._ " Harry stepped forward and offered his wand. " _Holly and phoenix feather. Quite a match. Very rare, hard to get working._ _The holly tends away from such things and phoenix demands dominance. An Ollivander wand, though, and if I've seen one, I've seen one hundred. But why change what works? You know Albus mentioned you recently to myself and my husband. It's very rare to see such magic from your age. Very rare indeed. Yes, eleven inches in total. Quite the nimble little thing, isn't it? Though, of course it would have to be, wouldn't it?_ "

She gave it a swish over the vase and a small cloud formed and filled with water. The ancient and lively woman put the roses in the vase and returned his wand to him. " _All of your wands are in working condition. Now I want to put this in my kitchenette so I'll take my leave._ " She held out the flowered filled vase and beamed at it.

Harry glanced around once as the woman departed and stood as well.

" _Ah yes and we'll get some photos really fast and- Mr. Potter where are you going?_ "

Harry turned around back towards the courtyard. " _The cup demands only that we compete, not that we participate in anything else._ "

" _Childish._ " Delacour scowled at him though her words lost meaning as Krum seemed to agree with Harry and walked past him out into the rest of campus, Karkaroff towed after him and gave Harry a fearful look as he scuttled past.

" _As you say._ " Harry told her and left.

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" _We can endure neither our vices nor the remedies for them" - Livy_

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 _Because I like to discuss things, I made a forum for this story. Link in Profile._

 **Next 'Five of Swords'**

 **-WG**


	18. Five of Swords

**Beta: Digitize27**

 _I answer questions about this story on my forum. Link in profile._

 **To be honest I'm not sure about the future of this. I'm dealing with both mental and physical health issues and so writing is hard.**

 **Thanks for your patience with that.**

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" _Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show." – Terry Pratchett, Going Postal_

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Harry traced his wand around his head and over his clothes, murmuring as he did. He finished and directed his wand at his chest, muttering, " _finite_." Then he moved to repeat the motion again.

"How many times are you going to do that?" Daphne was resting comfortably nearby while he practiced his wand motions in the meadow.

"Until I can do it nearly instantly," Harry returned distractedly without turning around. "As I told you before, I need to master these protections before Saturday." He gestured, incanted, and the skin on his left arm became as hard as bark. He flexed it and rolled his wrist. It seemed fine even though the sensation was odd. It felt heavier, but it still moved like normal. He touched it with his wand arm and it felt numb. It would take more practice to make the skin hard but still behave exactly like skin.

"Yeah but it's boring. It's not like the usual magic you do." There was certain something in the way she said that.

"You insisted that you be here in the event my self-transfiguration fails."

"Self-transfiguration is very dangerous! Most people can't-"

"Merlin, you two bicker like a married couple." The smaller version of Daphne plopped into the meadow and sat down next to her older sister. "Mom sent a letter," she held out a page to her sister from an envelope. "This was what she sent you."

Harry inhaled to prepare himself and try Grindelwald's blade ward again. He closed his eyes and focused on warping the space around him.

 _Only the space. Not the air. Just the space._

"You know Aster its funny," Daphne began and Harry could hear her smirk. His own lips turned up just listening to it. "Mom said she would send both of us an allowance to spend in Cannes and yet it's not here? Isn't that strange? Do you think she forgot? Or-" Harry heard a fake gasp. "-Could it be that you would try and take the whole thing for yourself? Surely not. Not my sister!"

" _Mucruitio._ " Harry spoke and made the motions of his wand as he had been told.

"I guess she must have forgot then. Oh well. I'm sure your boyfriend with the trust fund will give you a loan."

Harry saw no difference in the world around him. He held out his hand and a fallen branch flew towards him. If he cast the spell correctly, it should be shredded. Instead it hit his hand. He scowled and raised his wand again.

"I'm not going to mooch off Harry. Just hand me my share and then you can go your way."

"So he _is_ your boyfriend. Congratulations! Well, I never thought I'd see the day- ow! Hey!"

"Fork it over Aster!"

"Would you let go!"

"Be quiet. I need to focus," Harry told them both. They both quieted and he exhaled.

" _Mucruitio_."

There was nothing again.

"What is the great Harry Potter trying to do this time?" Astoria whispered.

"I don't know that spell. It might be a new one," Daphne whispered back.

"It's one of Grindelwald's." Harry informed them with his back turned.

"From the memory?" Daphne asked.

"Wait Gellert Grindelwald? The Dark Lord Grindelwald? That Grindelwald?" Astoria asked.

"Yes and yes," he answered them both.

"Isn't he, you know… why are you learning a Dark Lord's spells?" She pressed awkwardly.

"Grindelwald was undoubtedly evil. His actions aren't worth emulating, but his magic is." Harry laughed at her expression. "I think I would like to see Nurmengard one day."

"The prison?" Astoria stage whispered to her sister.

Entering Nurmengard wouldn't be easy. It was half palace and half prison. The brick and mortar had been enchanted as they were added to create an overwhelming magical protection. The whole building had been sung into place using Grindelwald's magic. He would need a way to dodge all the wards and guards and, perhaps just as dangerous, the house elves. But it should be possible.

" _Mucruitio_." Harry snapped. The grass around him was shredded as it swayed in the light breeze in and out of their current space and into adjacent ones. Twisting fields turned the ground inside out around him and the earth violently popped and he felt his back hit the dirt as the spell failed.

"Now I see why Daphne likes to watch you work," Astoria murmured.

Harry laid in the dirt, closed his eyes, and emptied his thoughts.

He felt the headmaster approach before he heard him.

"Are you busy, Harry?" Dumbledore loomed over him, Eyes twinkling. "I find myself quite surprised. You've never been one to be so idle."

"A spell ran away from me, sir." Harry explained, sitting up. "Perhaps I need more practice."

"It may have to wait. I am here to borrow you. I am afraid that there is much for us to discuss."

Harry stood up and waved his wand over himself. His robes smoothed and tightened themselves as the dirt simply fell off. As he followed the headmaster he made eye contact with Daphne to share a message.

 _We'll talk later._

"This spell which ran away from you, I could not help but hear the incantation and witness the wand movements. One of Grindelwald's, was it? Folding space so thoroughly and rapidly is quite dangerous. I myself never succeeded in weaponizing such abilities for duels, though, I am rather familiar with spells based on similar principles."

"Like the fidelius?"

"Just so. Speaking of, you must know that we are about to meet Sirius Black." Harry cocked his head up at the professor. "You see Harry, my capability to act as your guardian has come under a small bit of fire. We must prepare ourselves for the possible outcome that I am found wanting and that Mr. Black is appointed in my stead."

"How did this happen?"

"Well for one you must know that I have my own share of political enemies who are more than willing to exploit a bit of drama, though, I do sense Madam Malachite's hand in play. Money talks, Harry, and I find myself often lamenting the volume of its voice. Although in this case my opponents found a bit of leverage." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled down at him.

"Sir?"

"It seems as though Ms. Granger reported to her professors that you indicated your opinion that I was unfit to take care of you. Of course, Professor McGonagall, in line with her responsibilities, had no choice but to pass along this hearsay when questioned for the sake of this inquest."

Harry thought back to his parting conversation with Hermione. "That's not what I said… Is it really that much trouble for you?"

"The words of the child, even off hand, and even out of context, are certainly considered ammunition in custody battles. The possible impact aside, I find myself curious as to what your thoughts really are."

"I only told her that you'd made mistakes in handling myself, Tom, and Grindelwald."

"And what, in your opinion, were my mistakes involving Gellert?"

"It's often argued that you could have involved yourself in the war sooner. You yourself mentioned that you could have confronted him earlier." Harry hesitated. Those were the opinions of other people. That wasn't what Dumbledore had asked. "You were also friends with him, were you not?" There was a long pause and they walked in silence, Dumbledore stroked his beard with a small smile. "The copy of _Alive, A Categorical Study_ by Harfang Munter you loaned me belonged to him." Harry continued when his teacher said nothing.

"I was correct in thinking that you haven't been idle." Dumbledore gave Harry a very evaluative look. "Yes, we were friends once. We shared dreams. I hope you can understand, Harry. That I was alone." With barely a moment's thought Harry nodded along. He did understand. He knew what it was like to be alone. He didn't know Dumbledore had felt that cold bitter sting too. "Oh I had family, and my share of friends, but I had no mentors. No one who understood me until I met him. Perhaps you are right, that I could have done something about him much sooner, but I can't bring myself to apologize for the friendship we shared. We were brilliant, Harry, and he understood."

Harry said nothing. He didn't know what he could say to the old wizard. His face was drooping and he looked so tired, but his eyes still shone. They still looked bright. So Harry moved forward in silence until Dumbledore was ready.

"I would prefer that you not use Grindelwald's spells in the tournament, not when there are those who would recognize them." Harry frowned but nodded. "At least not unless you feel you must. I shall share a handful of wards with you that can take the place of protective spells, and a handful of offensive ones, should you be interested."

Harry bobbed his head again. He could master Grindelwald's spells on his own time, and if agreeing to not use them so publicly won him a few more then he was game. "I'm always interested, sir." Harry glanced over at the Professor. "Does my interest in Grindelwald's spells concern you?"

"No, indeed if that were all you were interested in, I believe I would rest easier at night. You have shown you are also interested in his history and, if I'm not mistaken, some of his ideologies. Perhaps I am no better, some of his ideas are rather grand." Dumbledore stroked his beard. "A common world where muggles and wizards live together is a bold notion, one I was well taken with in my youth. But you don't care for muggles do you, Harry."

"No." Harry answered. "I don't." There was quiet as they walked for a moment. "It's not that I hate them, it's just… you're right. I don't _care_ for them. Isn't it normal to care about people you do know and not care for people outside that?"

"Hmm." Dumbledore hummed high in his throat. "Perhaps you are right. However, I find that the world would be a far greater place if it were normal to care about everyone."

"Another grand idea, sir?"

Dumbledore only hummed thoughtfully.

They paced into the center of island towards the area of the compound with the guest building. Harry recognized the building and looking up at the headmaster, but he only marched onwards, oblivious or apathetic to Harry's questioning look. Dumbledore stepped inside and towards one of the rooms before giving it a polite knock, the familiarity of the sound took Harry back three years to Privet Drive, the day his life changed forever.

The door swung inwards to reveal a lean looking man with a square face and short curly beard. He had rectangular glasses over dark eyes like beads and his face was rather nondescript. Even so, Harry recognized him immediately.

Dumbledore took the man's proffered hand in both of his and shook it firmly. "Nicolas, it's good to see you."

"Albus, my boy, you never call, you never write, you never visit! What's an old man to think?"

"He visits, writes, and calls all the time!" Harry heard an exasperated voice shout from within. "You saw each other just a few months ago in Cairo! Or did you both forget? Senile! The both of you!" The woman poked her head around the corner. "Albus," she greeted before looking down. "Oh, it's the boy." She sounded almost disappointed.

Harry blinked. This was a far cry from how Perennel had acted in the walled garden for the weighing of the wands. Dumbledore set a hand on Harry's back.

"So this is young Mr. Potter." Nicolas peered down at Harry. "Well come in, come in! You can't just stand out in the corridor!"

Dumbledore gently pushed Harry into the room as Nicolas shut the door behind him. The man strode forward and poured coffee into three mugs and reclined into a loveseat in a living room area.

He bade Harry and Dumbledore to join him at the coffee table set in the center of the room. Dumbledore took a wide couch and Harry sat next to him, suddenly feeling very small where just minutes ago he had crushed space like a tin can. "It's a pleasure to meet Albus' protege. I was beginning to worry he would never take a proper apprentice. Where are my manners? I am Nicolas Flamel." The man extended a hand with a jovial grin.

"Oh skip the introductions. Everyone already knows who everyone else is," Harry heard Perenelle shout from a kitchenette.

 _Well, she's not_ wrong _._

But Nicolas' grin didn't falter in the slightest and even widened further when Harry took his offered hand. "Albus tells me you lack the inclination towards my areas of expertise. Transfiguration never caught your fancy? Nor potions?" He seemed to actually want an answer this time.

"Potions is interesting," Harry affirmed. "I harass my professor about their invention and how they work. And I'm only just beginning self-transfiguration." Harry took a drink of the coffee, Nicolas handed him. It was bitter but smooth, he supposed. He wasn't much for it, but it would be rude to turn it down.

"For the tournament?" Perenelle sat down next to her husband with a mug of steaming tea in her hands. It smelled fragrant, even from where Harry sat on the far side of a coffee table. She gave him an appraising look over her glass as she daintily crossed her legs.

Harry nodded. "Some skin-hardening and basic healing should serve me well, and not just in this."

"Of course. I have seen some of your work in herbology. I'm sure you are aware that my own field was affected by your discoveries." Nicolas smirked. "But that isn't your calling is it? I have been informed of rather than read myself your studies of dementors and their magic. I've even heard that you are something of an expert on thermomancy. Perhaps even a cryokinetic, too?"

Harry looked down at the last coffee mug which sat at the edge of the table, near an unoccupied arm chair. "Something like that, Sir."

Nicolas opened his mouth but Perenelle beat him to it. "Albus called you a mind artist," she deadpanned. "A legilimens at the age of eleven." There was something almost too sarcastic in the way those words dripped from her tongue. They sounded all too saccharine to be completely sincere, but Harry wasn't sure what would be attracting her ire.

Harry snuck a glance towards the Professor, before flicking his eyes back to the Flamel's.

There was a firm and loud knock at the door, which shattered the tension Harry had felt growing.

"Oh, I'll get it!" Nicolas stood with alacrity. Setting his mug down and moving towards the door. "So glad you could join us Alastor. I saved you a coffee."

Harry heard a stiff grunt, and a series of loud alternating steps.

"Ka-thunk...ka-thunk...ka-thunk."

Harry turned his head towards the noise. There was a man- well, parts of a man, walking, if such hobbling and dragging could be called walking, with a staff and peg leg across the hard-tiled floor. He was missing most of a cheek and the better part of his nose and the whole of his eye had been replaced by a bright blue whizzing imitation. The rest of his face and what Harry could see of his arms didn't look much better. It seemed as though the man had tried snogging a weed wacker.

"Harry, meet my good friend Alastor Moody," Dumbledore introduced. Mary Shelley's inspiration sat with a loud thump into the armchair. The man pulled out his wand and began muttering over the coffee, something Harry found quite rude, before finally deciding to take a drink. "Former auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked, piercing that together. Tearing his eyes away from the man to look at Dumbledore. "Your followers." Harry realized.

"My friends," Dumbledore corrected gently with a twinkle in his eye.

Perenelle scoffed.

"Let's not rehash old arguments," Nicolas intervened. "The purpose of this cabal is You-Know-Who."

Harry almost jumped. "Tom?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. I suspected that the attempted theft of the stone last month was his work, and after some convincing-"

"-and the fact someone has to replace you as a tournament judge-" Perenelle cut in.

"-the Flamels agreed to come here so I could help protect the stone and their lives."

"Plus Beauxbatons has formidable wards, and there will be a great deal of security and attention here, what with the tournament," Perenelle continued.

"You always suspected that he was still kicking." Moody growled. "You have evidence now?"

"None that I could share in a court of law or would stand up to a hearing," Dumbledore admitted. "He exists now as less than a wraith and more than a ghost clinging to life and seeking to return to power."

"How does he survive and how will he attempt to return?" Nicolas pressed.

"There are many ways he could rebuild a body. The creation of a homunculus by ritual or perhaps even possession," Dumbledore answered. "As to how he remains in this world… I am at a loss. -"

 _Liar_.

"- I can only suppose that he used the vilest of soul magic to hold himself here."

Harry felt a stirring in his gut.

"We already guessed as much." Perenelle stirred her tea and took a sip, sharing a glance with her husband.

Mental fingers ached to reach into their minds and find out just _what_ , but Harry stayed them. The Flamels would undoubtedly know occlumency.

"What is he capable of now?" Nicolas pressed.

"Possession, and while sharing the body of another he can do other magics, at the very least legilimency," Harry answered. "Maybe more."

"Voldemort was always charismatic," Dumbledore continued for Harry. "He could bend wizards and witches to his side even without magic. Only his words and presence, which I suppose is a magic all its own. It would be unwise to assume that he is not dangerous, even without magic. Should he make another attempt on the Stone, I intend to catch him, and seal him away."

"Use us as bait you mean," Perenelle interpreted. "Would you like to paint the bullseye on our backs, or should I?" Nicolas raised a hand to hush his wife and turned towards his drink looking pensive.

"Sir, it didn't work at Hogwarts, why would it work now?" Harry asked his mentor.

"Voldemort already made for the Stone once after Hogwarts, why shouldn't he endeavor a third?" Dumbledore turned towards Harry. "He should be deluded into thinking that the Stone was at Hogwarts, only those in this room know that the Stone was never there. Indeed, if he was willing to try Hogwarts surely he is willing to infiltrate Beauxbatons."

Harry scowled mulling that over. Would he, himself, try to steal the Stone again after failing twice?

 _If I was desperate enough._

Hell, Harry was willing to test Nurmengard for a handful of books. Surely the stone was worth more than that, just not to Harry.

"Perhaps the Stone should be destroyed," Harry hedged into the room. "That would be the safest course?"

Harry saw Dumbledore heave an almost imperceptible sigh before Perenelle opened her mouth. "Safest for whom? Surely not safest for myself and my husband who would surely die!" Harry raised his hands in placation in the face of her venom. "Perhaps _you_ should give up _your_ life to stop this wraith. After all it is you who he has an interest in."

"He's just a boy, he didn't mean it," Nicolas pleaded. "He couldn't have known and remember darling, no old arguments, please."

Perenelle huffed, but seemed to calm down. Harry decided to keep quiet for the rest of the meeting.

"I don't like this plan, Albus, it targets both me and my wife especially," Nicolas continued.

"You'll always be a target. Destroy the Stone, don't destroy the Stone, he'll be gunning for ya' either way," Alastor cut in. "The only thing that changes by staying here with Albus is that he can keep a close eye on the two of ya' and hopefully catch the bastard. Minimizes risk while maximizing reward." Alastor sat back. "Unless ya' think you can hold 'em at bay on your own?"

"We'll have to talk about it." Nicolas looked at his wife, then back to Dumbledore. "We can't make a decision like this without due thought."

Alastor stood, drinking the last fluid from his mug and set it back on the table. "Well, I'd decide fast before _he_ decides for ya'."

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Harry exited with Dumbledore's guiding hand on his shoulder and the door shut behind them both. Harry waited for Dumbledore to begin walking before he followed.

"What do you think of the Flamels, Harry?"

"I always assumed that out of the two of them, Nicolas would have more presence."

"Mmm." Dumbledore made a non-commital noise. "Being a genius does not make one powerful or charismatic or even well-adjusted to social norms. I am rather surprised. I had thought you would understand that, given your relationship with Ms. Greengrass." Dumbledore turned a bright eye onto Harry. "Unless I miss my mark."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. "No. You don't," Harry returned, shaking his head slightly.

It was true. Harry was powerful and smart but he would always prefer to leave the talking to Daphne.

They walked in silence down the corridor.

"Here we are." Dumbledore looked at his watch. "Your godfather should be settling in about now." He gave a firm rap on the door.

"Yes, yes! One moment!" The door swung open. "Dumbledore!"

The man was lean, too lean. Unlike Nicolas who had a healthy gait the tall man before Harry looked as though a strong breeze might do him in. His hair was long and unkempt, falling over his eyes and his facial harry grew in a wild fashion, as though the man had simply forgotten to shave for the last few weeks. His eyes were slightly sunken, in line with his thinness, like the man hadn't had a warm meal in a month and the whites were a slight yellow. The smell of alcohol hit Harry's nose as he stepped over the threshold.

He held out his hand and after a moment the man shook it, grasping it tight but almost weakly.

"Harry Potter," he introduced.

"I'm your godfather, Sirius Black." Sirius hardly maintained eye contact. "You look so much like your father, James. But not the eyes, no, you've got Lily's eyes."

Harry nodded along with the line.

"You were a friend of my father's." Harry stated.

"I was, yes. The best." The man tried what Harry was sure was once a roguish half-smile but it quickly dimmed. Sirius cleared his throat and turned to Dumbledore. "It's good to see you as well, Headmaster. It's been a while."

"Just a few years." Dumbledore brushed off with a small upturning of his lips. "I'm sure Remus will be glad to hear that you are out and about."

"Remus?" Sirius asked, as though the name was distant. "How is he?"

"He's doing quite well. Teaching at Hogwarts, believe it or not."

"Good, good. That's really good."

The conversation began to die down almost immediately. Harry reached out with mental fingers to touch the inside of his godfather's skull.

Harry was suddenly tethering on an edge, down from which there was no bottom and no climbing up yet he could not seem to regain his balance. A sense of vertigo washed over him and he swallowed some bile in a suddenly tight throat and dry mouth.

" _Jump,_ "something whispered to him.

 _I'd never come back,_ Harry retorted.

" _Of course not_ ," it whispered back.

Harry recoiled back to himself. The shock and terror was enough that he almost flinched away and gasped for breath. It was the sort of horror one felt when they realized how short their life was, how meaningless anything they could ever do was. It was the feeling of hating yourself for wasting your life but knowing in your soul that there was nothing you could do to change that. It was anxiety attack inducing nihilism. It was the paradox of not wanting to die, yet wishing you had never been born.

Sirius didn't seem to notice the intrusion but Harry was violently repelled all the same, left almost choking by the sudden swell of intense emotion.

Dumbledore turned an eye on Harry before engaging Sirius once again.

Harry tuned it out and thought of Voldemort who hounded him and the tournament which ensnared him. It would be so easy to give up. To just… bow out. Step aside. Be small, because no matter how hard he tried he would always be small compared to _something_. So why bother? He always managed to handle the solipsism, and the helplessness that came from the realization that everything he did was preordained when he talked to Luna, he could get through this too.

" _But you've never managed to refute those ideas,_ " a conspiratorial thought whispered.

He shook his head, trying to free himself from the infectious thought pattern. He blinked the thoughts away as best as he could, tried to focus on what gave his life meaning.

 _I've never known someone to defend their mind by creating such a horrible-_ suicidal- _feeling._

 _I can_ use _that._

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Harry and Dumbledore stepped out after what may have been five minutes or could have been an hour.

"Did something happen, Harry?" Dumbledore looked down at him.

Harry winced and grit his teeth. "I should have known better than to try to read the mind of a suicidal and depressed man." He returned Dumbledore's gaze. "The thoughts and feelings are infectious."

"Are you alright?"

"It's fascinating, sir. I never imagined using a depressing feeling to repel mental attacks!"

"Oh, is that all?"

"Well, no. Every time you hear, read, say, see, or think something, you make another copy in your mind. Even as I try to analyze what just happened I float dangerous close to the same thoughts I received when I had the idea."

"I don't believe I follow."

"By passing along an idea which attaches to many trains of thought, a person's memory can be turned against them. You could easily poison someone's mind to always be looped back to the same thoughts. You wouldn't even technically need legilimency to do it. You could just remind someone of that thing and it would take them back. Those thoughts could then be something toxic, suicidal, depression inducing, or paranoia inducing. I bet I could even make someone schizophrenic."

Dumbledore gave him a worried look. "Are you saying that when you read his mind he passed his depression and suicidal tendencies onto you?"

"Well, yes. That's where I got this idea. A depressed mind comes back to the same thoughts over and over. It dwells on them. It loops back. The person's train of thought always comes back to being negative and as it spreads through a person's mind it attaches more and more. It makes more copies. That's why depression is hard to beat."

"That is not confidence inspiring… You are now yourself suggesting that you cannot escape that mental train of thought. The same one that left your godfather in such a state."

"Well yes, it's a dangerous thought. But for me it's a great tool." Seeing his mentor's face Harry rolled his eyes.

"It seems to me you could do such things with Legilimency by placing so many thoughts in someone's mind. You could twist and turn their thoughts or use a pavlovian reaction to get the same results."

"You mean use brute force to manipulate their mind to the same effect? Well I suppose this memory poisoning is less efficient, but it's still fascinating all the same."

"Harry, such illnesses are no joking matter, especially if what you are suggesting is true."

"Sir, I promise to tell you before I kill myself." He chuckled softly and smiled.

Dumbledore did not.

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Harry found that the headmaster had kept his word when he woke up Friday to find Hedwig perched outside the compartment window. She pecked loudly at the glass and Ernie turned over in his sleep.

He silenced the noise so as to not wake up his compartment-mates, dressed, and exited the compartment and train. He went around rather than let Hedwig in. He accepted the letter and parchment from the bird who nipped at his fingers incessantly.

He opened it to find to sheets of paper, likely copied directly from a personal tome onto these pages. The contents were fairly standard affairs for spell descriptions in Dumbledore's stylized handwriting.

When Harry read the spells' names he couldn't help but smile. There was no mistaking Dumbledore's handiwork, even in the naming. The first was called Minute Meteor, the second was Energy Efficacy. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if all of Dumbledore's spells were alliterative.

Minute Meteor summoned fist sized magical lights that orbited the caster and nothing more. Energy Efficacy turned heat into electricity and that was all.

Someone else might have been disappointed with the two spells. Someone else might have questioned Dumbledore's use of them. Harry wasn't someone else and he had seen Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald. Both spells made use of Dumbledore's natural inclination towards transfiguration, how the world could flow from one form into another.

However, more importantly, both spells were incomplete. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. If someone followed the instructions the spells would work exactly as they intended. The arithmancy was balanced.

Neither spell was designed to be used as they were. They were meant to be used in conjunction with another or modified. There were both begging to be modified.

Sure, Energy Efficacy could be used to turn heat into electricity, but with a slight modification it could do the opposite. Or turn heat into light, or motion into lightning. It was designed to make energy flow from one form into another. Something so small was simultaneously enormously powerful.

Of course, the spell had limits, as all magical workings did. One such limit was range, one could not transfigure the entire world after all, but, all things considered, it was undeniably useful. Harry even imagined that with practice and extreme control, the spell could be used to absorb energy, store it, then release it at a latter point.

Reading this spell, Harry was almost certain that this was how Dumbledore had turned Grindelwald's stone lions and their enchantments to powder with a casual flick. It explained why those who stood behind Dumbledore had survived Grindelwald's initial spell in the legendary duel, as well.

The second was similar. The points of light could just as well be motes of fire, or balled lightning, or solid steel, all to be hurled at a foe or even, with practice, block incoming spellfire.

The simplicity of the spells allowed complex operations to emerge from them inherently. It was at times like these Harry felt humbled.

Suffice to say that Harry was pleased by the spells. Enough so that he set to practice them immediately. After all, he only had another day before the first task.

"Decided not to come to breakfast?" Daphne interrupted his attempts to convert kinetic energy into electricity. "I saved you a croissant." She held out the small pastry wrapped in a napkin.

He took it graciously before he took a bite. It was still flakey and buttery, if a little cold. He hesitated when he looked her in the eyes. She was beaming and her eyes were full of mirth.

"What?"

"Oh I figured something out is all," Her eyes continued to dance.

"Something interesting?"

"You could say that. Have you seen today's paper?"

"I don't read the paper." She knew that. The opinions of… _mundane_ wizards on things like proper broom stick regulations didn't concern him.

"Maybe you should today." She held out the paper.

He took it.

 **A Beastly Tournament**

 **By Elise Villaneuve**

 **Every Triwizard Tournament has its denouncers and naysayers. Some are concerned for the safety of our children and the dangers of promoting such a brutal sport. Politicians debate the benefits of hosting the tournament. Still others have well founded woes regarding the safety of the spectators, the last tournament was cancelled due to a rampaging cockatrice which killed many of the audience members.**

 **It is from the magical creature perspective that my guest is speaking for today.**

" **We take some of the most dangerous creatures in the world, transport them hundreds of miles, put them in the center of a crowd, and then we are shocked at what happens next."**

 **Amelia Turpin, from the British Ministry's Department for the Regulation and control of Magical Creatures had to say.**

" **And sometimes it's not just stupid it's cruel. Once the first task revolved around stealing fake eggs from a dragon's nest. Did they even consider the trauma for these poor creatures? Depression is well documented in dragons which lose their egg clutches.**

 **And this year-well… let's just say it's an especially large dose of cruelty."**

 **It's worth noting that within this year Amelia Turpin put her job on the line to care for a young magical creature. The ownership of which is a crime in Britain, even to save its life.**

 **I for one stand behind Turpin. Cruelty for the sake of amusement is too far.**

"And?" Daphne pressed.

"I don't know what you want me to see."

"The Tarasque, that's the creature for the tournament," Daphne's triumphant look turned exasperated.

"This doesn't say that," Harry said, turned the piece back over with his eyes. "Besides, just one creature for all three of us?"

"Ugh, that's why I talked to Lisa. She told me that when their mother was found out, the creature was slated to be killed and then shipped off, without an execution."

"How did you get her to talk about it?"

"That's not the important part."

"Then what's the important part."

"The _important part_ ," Daphne stressed. "Is that you're the executioner, Harry. That's what she means by this year being especially cruel."

"I don't know… I don't think they could just publish it."

"Well if they retracted it, that would give it away for sure."

Harry really wanted a mind to read. "I'm just not sure."

"Do you have any better ideas? Besides, just trust me on this one."

"So I need to prepare to survive one of these, Tarasque?" Harry hadn't heard of the creature.

"Well, kill it if you want to win," Daphne agreed.

Harry took a bite of his croissant. "I haven't heard of a Tarasque," he continued after he swallowed and handed the paper back to Daphne. "At least it's something to work on. Thanks Daphne." He took another bite of the croissant.

"So…" She trailed off.

"'So?'" He repeated.

"So this is the part where you tell me what happened with Dumbledore yesterday." She flicked her hair back exasperatedly as she spoke.

"Nothing much." He paused. He had promised to tell her more. "I met my Godfather, he'll be watching the tournament, and the Flamels for a meeting about Voldemort."

"Oh is that all."

"Nothing came of it," he defended himself.

"What was the meeting with the Flamels for?" Daphne pressed. Harry would tell her what she asked but she had to ask.

"Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort still wants the Stone, so they're in danger."

"That's always been a risk." Daphne considered. "I mean how many Dark Lords have wanted the stone since its inception? A lot probably."

Harry nodded his agreement. "That's what Alastor Moody thought too." Seeing Daphne's confused face he elaborated. "He's one of Dumbledore's friends. Probably a follower."

"I know who he is, you didn't tell me he was here," She huffed. "He's a well-known supporter of Dumbledore. It's a widely known secret that he was a member of Dumbledore's order."

"The Order of the Phoenix," Harry confirmed.

"Ah, you do know something about Dumbledore's political power."

"What does politics have to do with this?"

"Everything. At the end of the last war Dumbledore had a paramilitary organization working for him. A well-trained group of talented and useful wizards and witches. You think that they would follow him if they didn't agree with his stances?"

"They always have followers," Harry refuted. "Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Voldemort, what of it?"

"How do you think they got them. To organize a group you need a purpose. Even if it is world conquest or muggle extinction."

Harry wrinkled his nose slightly. "I need to look into these Tarasques if I can."

"So you're headed to the library?" Daphne affirmed. "What about classes?"

"Classes won't matter if I'm dead tomorrow."

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 _ **Compendium of British Magical Artefacts Through the Ages**_ **by Hebert Nikal: Excerpt from 'The Goblet of Fire'**

The purpose of the Goblet of Fire is to select three names from three groups best suited for a given role. Setting this role is an abstract process that must involve three different nationalities and their governments. However, the Goblet's magical can only be used in regard to enforcing this preset role.

Though the most famous use of the Goblet is to select participants for the Triwizard Tournament, the original use was to select political leaders from the magical populations of Celts, Romans, and Scots during the Roman occupation of Britain between the first and fourth centuries.

The idea was that any one member of any group could be nominated to represent that group politically and the members could be assured that their representatives could remain incorruptible during their term, and that only the greatest leader could possibly be selected, even against their will.

Amongst societies where nationality was a key component of culture, this idea of compelled state service was considered moral, however, even after the cup was rediscovered in the era of Merlin, it has never since been used for political purposes.

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" _Cauldron blazing in the fire, lapping flames grow ever higher. Tongue of toad, and wing of bat, Mixed within this bubbling vat. Raven's claw and serpent's scale, Dragon's blood and scorpion's tail." - Nox Arcana_

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 **I always wondered what might happen if a mind reader looked into the head of someone with mental disorders. Like anxiety, or schizophrenic paranoia, or even depression. Or how about someone on drugs?**

 **So, yeah. That's a red flag. For a note Harry has always used gallows humor, but what happened will have some effects.**

 _Because I like to discuss things, I made a forum for this story. Link in Profile._

 **-WG**


	19. Olympian

**Beta: Digitize27**

 _I answer questions about this story on my forum. Link in profile._

 **My Tarasque is a bit of a combination of the Tarasque from French myth, combined with a bit of a similar creature called the Peluda, also of French myth.**

 **I saw a reddit post about that sting from the first chapter and if all else goes to plan, then that should be happening during Harry's next summer.**

 **Harry's character growth, resolving to not be alone should be wrapped up in a few more chapters and Harry's 'being arrogant arc' will come to a head soon.**

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" _It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable." - Socrates_

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The mood in the air was full of energy. Harry couldn't help but breath in the emotions, he almost opened his mouth, as if to taste them better, as he made his way down to the Beauxbatons ferry. It usually took large numbers of students back and forth from the mainland, but today it held a different destination.

This brought him back to his first quidditch match when the entire world felt electric

There were several islands within and around Beauxbatons, each smaller than the island which hosted the campus by a large margin, but big enough to turn a quidditch pitch into an arena. That's where the first task was taking place.

Looking around the small locker room in which champions had gathered, Harry couldn't help but notice that Fleur Delacour was looking a little pale. Did she know what they faced?

" _Ah the audience should be settling in at any moment_ ," Badinter began in french, " _so I might as well explain your task to you all. Outside this room, in the pitch, is one of the most dangerous magical creatures in Europe._ " Badinter's eyes were lighting up in excitement. Say what you will, he certainly loved his job. " _A tarasque. Your job, all of you, shall be to slay it. Your contributions shall be rated by a panel of judges; however, the champion who succeeds in slaying the beast shall receive an extra twenty points._ "

Harry smirked. Daphne would be pleased.

" _Now you shall all go to your entrances, and at the sound of the canon you may begin the task._ "

Harry was led by one of Badinter's assistants to a doorway looking out onto the pitch. Here he waited, breathing in the excited atmosphere around him.

 _Let it in._ Something inside himself demanded.

No. Harry argued back, thinking about the Dementors. Letting in magic like that was dangerous… although it was pleasant…

 _And invigorating._

Harry already knew he would give in, so he let go and drank in the crowd's emotions. He let out a satisfied sigh as he did. He felt good. He felt _strong_.

His charms were practiced, his spell chains put together, he was ready to remain light on his feet. He could do this. He could really _win._ This tournament really could give him that necessary push to grow more powerful.

He reached through the crowd, navigating through hundreds of unfamiliar minds, straight to one that called him like a beacon. He grabbed Daphne.

' _I've got this._ ' He whispered, transmitting comforting feelings. He could feel her anxiety and stress falling as he held her.

The cannon's crack rung right into Harry's ears,wavering in the air. Through his connection to the element, he could feel it extending out over the open water.

" _And they're off!"_ Harry heard Badinter boom from somewhere in the stands, voice amplified.

Harry sprung forward, casting spells over his body for protection. He shedding magic like water off an ice cube on a warm summer's day. Fire protection, bark skin, acid protection, he made himself faster with longstrider, six meteors took shape around him, crafted from the blindness and deafness spell he had designed.

He didn't bother with Grindelwald's spells, at least for now. He could cast neither at a level that would be immediately and obviously helpful for this situation. Doing so would just be a waste of energy.

" _Mr. Potter and Mr. Krum are casting protections while Ms. Delacour is in the middle of a transfiguration._ "

He glanced at his competition. True to Badinter's words, Delacour was somewhere between a bird and a woman, likely to maximize her protection from fire by making use of her Veela nature. Victor, meanwhile, had begun the first offensive with a blacked purple spell which struck the creature in the middle of the pitch.

At the sound of the cannon the monster roared through a maw of saber like teeth. Its face was somewhere between a turtle's and a lion's. Its face ran back in white fur until it reached a golden mane, which seemed hair-like near the face, but became more solid the further towards the shell the body ran. From above its head, several trinary-helix shaped horns protruded, jagged and sharp. Each of its six legs were anchored beneath its turtle like body. Its feet were bigger than he was, with three toes with jagged, two-foot long claws to match. Purple spines grew from thickly muscled knees and upper legs.

Its back was jagged around the edges with protrusions longer than meter sticking out perpendicular to its body. However, near the top of the creature's back, the shell was smoother and honeycomb-shaped, with barbs sticking out of the center of each shape, each longer than Harry's forearm.

The XXXX monster ended in a thick and scaled tail. Near the tip it was armored with a ridge like pattern which Harry was sure could fold a car like a tin can. The entire creature must have been thirty feet from nose to tail with most of its bulk in its massive shell.

Victor's eldritch blast shook the beast from where it struck. Harry could respect the power behind that, but even more so what happened next. Krum let loose five sickly-yellow looking hollow spells that shot like bullets. Where they struck the creature, they sent shards of shell and scales falling to the ground but they didn't seem to penetrate particularly far.

" _Have you ever seen casting like his at this age? Is Mr. Krum competing in dueling tournaments? He should!"_ Badinter's commentary continued obnoxiously. Harry attempted to tune it out.

It was followed by an orange curse that wobbled inaccurately in the air. The spell hit a front leg, which was rapidly covered with soot and glowed from within, like a hot coal, as flesh was burnt away. Harry didn't recognize either of the next two blue colored spells either, but he could guess that they were somewhat cruel and debilitating in purpose based on the careful aim the Durmstrang student took at the tarasque's face.

Harry found himself feeling impressed by the machine gun rate in which the spells were cast; it was faster than Harry had ever seen in a student, except himself, and with spells he didn't recognize.

There were a lot of spells, enough that Harry knew he would never learn them all, but he knew more than the average student. Enough to see the difference between the crimson of a stunner and the subtle shade difference between it and the cruciatus. The fact that Victor possessed knowledge of such spells was a credit to him and a reminder for Harry.

Moving much faster than Harry had ever thought such a turtle-like drake could manage, it turned to face Krum and exhaled. A wave rolled over the grass in a ripple, likeair over hot asphalt. The magic turned the grass to dirt, both burning and rotting away as it extended towards Victor.

With a twist of his wand that Harry could immediately identify as a classic shield charm, Victor shielded himself from the magic which swept over him.

The beast didn't let up, and massive claws swiftly bore down on Krum. He only just managed to transfigure a barrier between himself and it before buoying himself up in the air with what may have been a charm to allow true flight, but likely wasn't. It was much more likely the basic _levitato_ or perhaps the more complex _ascendio._

Its claws folded his barrier as easily as they moved through the air moments after he had escaped.

Harry launched three of his orbiting meteors at it's less armored rear, but sensing the danger it whirled back around, teeth bared. The meteors exploded near its face in a brilliant display of light and sound. Blinded, it bellowed in fury and the area around the creature began to glow incandescent.

The air around the monster caught fire with a pop, and Harry could feel the resulting rush of heat even from most of a Quidditch pitch away.

Fleur began to sing, some enchantment or another that maximized her veela heritage, but whatever she was doing wasn't tarasque's mouth frothed with flame as it shook its head. The drake's eyes opened again and wheeled around focusing on Harry. Its rotation scoured a deep trench in the soft earth.

Harry felt the pressure on him increase along with an accompanying rise in heat. The space began to glow in a thermoluminescent fashion, because it was. The creature was setting the space he was standing on fire. Harry sprang into motion, hoping to escape the pressure but the tarasque never let up. Ash glowed behind him as he constantly evaded but never escaped.

Harry flicked his focus and cast _energy efficacy_ , pulling from the heat behind him as he gathered strength, there was a lot of it. Not just from the tarasque's magic, though a great deal came from that source, too much for him to draw in, really, but also from _everything_. There was energy in the world which could stagger belief. There was energy in the sunlight, in the wind, and in the distant waves.

There was power in the emotions of the crowd that he could tap into with a thought.

Reaching out and touching the feelings around him made him feel good, made him feel strong. Was that figurative? Purely mental? Harry found that magic hardly cared about the difference between what was metaphorical and what was literal. Or perhaps he himself hardly cared and so the magic around him didn't care? To be honest, it rather reminded him about the abstract tendencies of soul magic, or rather, what he knew of it.

There was also power in himself and he knew where to find it.

Harry separated it as he dodged, spinning and sliding around while focusing more power than he ever had in his life.

Blue and white light gathered at the tip of his wand. A feeler burst from the tip and scored a jagged line through the ground in front of him even as he struggled to keep it under his control. The grass turned to ash immediately and the earth was turned to glass under the tendril before he could reign it back in.

Harry gathered for a moment and fired.

The lightning bolt that emerged from himself seemed to dim the world even as it lit up everything in a flash of white and blue. It emerged from his wand like a dam was bursting, flexing outwards. Leaders torched the ground between Harry and the creature. The ground in front of him and at the leaders was thrown upwards even as it was melted by the passing energy.

The bolt didn't strike it in the face like Harry had intended, instead it collided with its jagged shoulder. It screamed in agony as the lightning ran down and into the ground. The earth was furrowed as the spell pushed the creature back and the shell began to glow like it was melting, rather than burning. Though there were signs of both.

Jagged patterns emerged in its face as feelers attempted the path of least resistance and burned their way across it. Parts of its mane went up and liquid glowing droplets that were formerly chitinous shell fell from where the bolt struck. The tarasque's legs twitched and the left lead leg above which Harry struck collapsed and spasmed. Its tail thrashed through the air, Krum had to abandon his levitating patch of earth to escape the danger. He had good timing too, because the tail struck through the earth a moment later, blowing it apart without slowing down.

But in a moment the spell finished.

Harry gasped for breath, reaching out to the air for energy and gaining some back. He felt for the crowd but it was different. It tasted it more… fearful. More shocked.

Come to think of it, it was strangely quiet. Fleur had stopped singing. But the moment seemed to sing in Harry's mind.

Did they all think it was over?

Because the drake was getting back up.

Harry surveyed his handiwork and felt a rush of pride. This was what he could do now; it was certainly impressive. As he looked on at the droplets melting from the tarasque's shell.

More than that, he felt something hungry, too.

He could do so much more. He knew that he could. His anxieties over his future were still there but there was a certain confidence that came with seeing and knowing what he could do. The terror that stemmed from his inability to find meaning was stymied. Here he had a true target. Something he could rage at and destroy with power he had earned.

From here he could even see how he should work to improve.

Where he had lost control and, therefore, power was one, but it could also be more focused. Filling a stadium with fire too, was impressive, but that same fire focused to the size of a person, or even further, to the size of a galleon, was even more so.

That was real power combined with mastery.

All said, the tarasque was still horrendously lethal and an unneeded reminder cropped up when the air around him heated up violently. The creature pointed him out as a threat and lashed out as only a wounded, cornered, scared, magical creature could, the flames which wreathed it flared as its magic focused solely on him.

From Harry's sense of the air around him, moving fluidly, he could see how much like a liquid the air was. The arbitrary boundaries humans labeled the states of matter, like solid and liquid, were an illusion. In the right time frame or at sufficient random kinetic energy, even solid rock would appear fluid.

There was a lot of random kinetic energy in the area that was being prevented from transferring to the surrounding cooler ones. The pressure was being increased proportionally by the beast's magic until it simply couldn't maintain its current course. Quite literally like a dam bursting except with air instead of water.

His fire protective charm didn't so much fail as much as its capacity was exceeded. It continued to work since his robes didn't actually catch fire in a literal sense, but they did start to _melt_ , the heat was simply too much for the charm to keep out and he knew that in another moment it would burn right through him too.

He had promised Dumbledore he wouldn't use any of Grindelwald's spells if he could help it, but...

" _Mercrutio!_ " Harry mustered his will and the power to make that will manifest. He divorced himself from the space around him. Grindelwald's space rending spell separated him from the heat at the same time the tarasque's control failed and the area finally _burst._

It was a desperate move. It left him completely blind and deaf to the world as darkness encroached. He hadn't had the time to take some air with him so he couldn't breathe either. For a moment he was suspended, not in a vacuum, for even a vacuum required there be space for matter to be absent from, but something even less than that. He was totally immobile as well, it was incredibly difficult to move into an absence of space, impossible really.

It was also horrendously costly, it burned through the majority of the magic he had gathered, and then seemed to burn right through him too. His head spun as he conducted the magic through himself; from the feeling in his chest and face, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if he had started to glow, like he was going to melt.

For a terrible moment he was horrifically frightened and his head spun. There was none of the energy he spent all day every day tapped into. None of the psychic or material, he was terrifically alone.

In a second horrendous rush he was back with sound and light and energy again. When he came back he was falling into the center of a crater. A flex of will and the air pushed him back to the far edge away from the beast. A good thing too since liquid rock lined the crater and slowly pooled in the bottom of the pit where it glowed red and orange. The grass was burning meters away from him too and in a wide stretch around the blast.

Harry wasn't sure what made him laugh, it could have been the sensation seeing the fruit of tireless labor or the spinning in his head, but as he did he reached out. His wand already dancing in time with his will. He couldn't help but grin.

Was this what Olympians felt?

The culmination of natural talent honed over hundreds of hours.

He inhaled smoke and let go.

He exhaled condensation and held on.

Fires died around him, the air receded back to a normal temperature, the liquid rock hardened and stilled; Harry never stopped pulling, feeding himself with the power of the world.

He had long compared himself to a dementor, dwelling almost miserably on the thought and so much self-loathing and disgust when he used powers he had earned, but that wasn't right.

If a dementor were similar to him, then veela were like dragons. They were on different orders of magnitude, used their power for different reasons, the powers they obtained in different ways. Was it something to be concerned about? Maybe so. But was it something to obsess over? Not particularly.

Harry didn't feel alone like he had then, because he wasn't, not anymore. When Hermione left he had been worried somewhere, somehow, that so would everyone else. That things would go back to the way things were before he was happy. That he would stop being talented and go back to being a freak.

Daphne had seen him, though, and she didn't want to leave. In fact, she wanted the opposite.

So as hoarfrost crept along the ground; freezing what was burning less than half a minute ago, and his heart was racing, Harry felt new.

Krum was firing spells as fast as he could, trying to slow down the drake as it changed priorities back towards him. He rolled to the side to dodge the crushing tail. Krum returned to his feet and bolted when a massive claw came his way.

Harry didn't see what trick Krum pulled but as he retreated the tarasque slumped sideways from the force of a blow, its side covered in nearly a dozen long gashes, some of which were actually deep enough to make it bleed.

With Krum making space for himself, Harry saw an opportunity.

 _The last thing I want to do is kill him on accident._

Harry waved his wand and the pressure increased on the creature's back, pushing it down at the same time the earth rose around it, moving fluidly to reach up and around and pull downwards.

A roar shook the arena and its claws tore the animated ground to shreds. Harry brought his wand around in a wide arc, it left dots of light in its wake as it traced a path over his head. A moment after they were summoned the dots began to move into an orbit around him. He pulled eighteen meteors in total.

With a thought he launched four of them immediately, letting the rest settle in their orbit. They struck between its feet, detonating with alarming force against the ground. He immediately went back to animating the earth.

The tarasque screeched and fought back. Harry felt the pressure on him increase and he launched two more meteors so that they hit either side of its head in quick succession, sending pieces of horn and scale falling down.

As it struggled and thrashed, it also dug itself into the ground. He continued to help with his animations and sending the occasion meteor at its feet. It went to set him alight again and Harry seized control of the air in front of its face and in its mouth and hit it with as much energy as he could spare. It was always difficult shaping air, especially as he flirted with Manton's limit, but he was able to drive it like a knife up into its mouth, throat, and nose. As a result, the tarasque lost its concentration on its magic and the pressure eased.

But he still had a lot of power left from what he regained with his energy conversion. Enough to do a massive conjuration if he had to, but he didn't right now, and that made for a pretty good Plan B.

His Plan A, however, was simple and leant well towards his dueling strengths. Few wizards could cast spells simultaneously and while Harry wasn't quite there yet (with the exception of minute meteor which _Dumbledore_ had designed, likely with things like this in mind), he could get pretty close. As a result, his dueling strategy involved pinning the enemy down and bombarding them with his powerful spells.

The principle here was much the same, he would bury the monster, slowly, and keep it from setting him on fire with his multitasking and meteors. he was capitalizing on some of his strengths and the way its weight worked against it on the soft Quidditch field. He launched two more orbiting missiles towards its feet and another one at its face.

He and Daphne had came up with a few strategies the night before, and this was one of them.

Delacour began to sing again, her magic was enough to make even Harry twitch. He had to confess that the Veela had a good plan. Her racial features, and how she was casting the spell, as a song, likely contributed to the overall strength of the enchantment she was casting.

Veela mind magic really wasn't anything like his. Its power was seduction and enthrallment, more subtle but also more universal. His mind simply couldn't grasp the tarasque's thoughts, his legilimency was useless as a result. The Beauxbatons champion's spell went beyond things like language and rationality, and could have an actual effect on its mind as a result.

Which was both fascinating and _working_. The drake's movements became less panicky, almost sleepy. It stopped trying to create an explosion on top of him and sunk deeper and deeper into the ground which rose like waves around it.

It was probably a good decision, afterall, if Harry did all the work as a meek fourteen year old, then it would probably reflect poorly on the others in the judges eyes.

It casually yawned and a wave of destruction flowed outwards towards the stands, only stopped by a blue barrier which shimmered into existence as it shielded the audience from the deadly attack.

The aura of heat and fire around the tarasque began to die down and it stopped melting as much of his earthly tendrils, but it continued to sink into the glowing earth around it.

Krum, seeing he was being left out, took careful aim with his wand and, before either Harry or Delacour could stop him, he fired.

In hindsight it was probably a well thought out move, Krum couldn't afford to not doing anything after his first assault failed. If he wanted to win, he had to do _something_. Still, Harry decided right then and there to take the time to find the time to curse the Durmstrang Champion.

 _The first thing I'm going to do is kill him._ Harry swore.

The blue curse impacted an eye and left a bloody ragged mess behind as a bunch of fluids that weren't blood, and a bunch more that were, dropped to the ground where they hissed and boiled.

It let loose an agonized screech and a wave of magic fire so intense Harry's grasp on the earth slipped.

The drake climbed out of the pit in several long strides, bursting the cauldron of its former personal volcano. It began to lash out with a wild breath attack in his and Delacour's direction and upward as it flailed.

Krum began an honest-to-god assault of spells against the creature's hide, which lit up in a swell of spells ranging from pink to orange to green. As they collided with the beast, a crackling pink epicenter of light expanded and stole craters of flesh while black smoke billowed forth with hidden green flashes which left behind melting chunks of former tissue in pockets. A ring of orange flared out from above the creature and expanded outwards an alarming distance; before it abruptly stopped expanding and reversed direction. Like a rubber band stretched to its limit it recoiled, slamming back into the monster, the wave of force pushing it to its knees.

Out of room to back up, Harry was pushed closer to it as he ran around the edge of the arena to dodge that lethally hazy breath. It continued to breath randomly in all directions and Harry was forced to shield from several of them as it writhed. It exhaled until the formerly massive waves were only slight pants.

Krum's attempts to chip the beast's armor apart failed when he was nearly blown apart by the tarasque's magical pressure.

Harry had already begun to move onto Plan B. Gallon after gallon of water rushed from his wand tip, both conjured and summoned, until the area around him was drenched. Fire met water and hissed as it did, but it still built up. By the time the tarasque stopped to catch its breath, Harry sent the flood in a rush at the water was evaporating as fast as he could summon it, but the creature was getting tired and the bursts of heat and flame were being pushed back.

Most of the pitch was on fire at this point and there was some liquid rock just now cooling in the massive crater, but Harry didn't need to extinguish the entire field, nor did he want to thanks to energy efficacy, he only needed to reach the beast.

Harry twirled his wand and enough water to fill an olympic pool slammed into the creature, lifting it off its feet and at the same time, with a thought, he hit its chest with six meteors, pushing it as it was carried right back into its crater in a spray of dirt. Harry stepped closer and willed the temperature to drop and the water began to ice over.

He slowly advanced, waving his wand as he weaved his work. Harry drained as much heat as he could from the water with as many of his powers as he could. Harry could get things pretty damned cold.

The water froze, crushing the drake as it expanded. By this time Harry had already stepped up right next to the crater Staring down at the trapped creature with thin, narrowed eyes. He gave his wand a casual wave and flex of will before promptly smashing the whole thing using the very energy he stole in order to freeze it.

The overpowered bludgeoning curse delivered the kinetic energy like a sucker punch from God, his last five meteors striking at the same moment. The roughly ball shaped chunk of ice shattered into jagged shards and almost snow-like flakes.

You don't always need to identify weaknesses to win. Sure, it was helpful to know that the creature's armor weakened where it met the tail or play off its legendary vulnerability to the sound of a woman's voice. It's always a good idea to have some knowledge of relative strengths and potential vulnerabilities. Being clever is also just _fun, b_ ut sometimes...

Sometimes just beating his enemies to death worked.

He had to play to his strengths to do it, but this combination of recycling energy back and forth was inspired.

Perhaps he really should advance his conjuration studies like Grindelwald had suggested and maybe Dumbledore was on to something when he talked about 'the way things flow from one form to another.'

Harry was neither of them and he could take what he pleased from their advice. He refused to make their mistakes.

" _-will you look at that!_ " It was Badinter's insignificant voice booming out over the field, finally breaking through Harry's razor focus. " _The youngest champion destroyed it. What was that spell? Have you ever seen a fourth year cast like this? A tremendous display from Mr. Potter!_ "

Harry waved his wand and ended the spells on him. The crowd was booming, the excitement was enough to shake the island and him as he tapped into the emotions.

He felt himself grin.

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Daphne felt herself finally relax. She had spent the entire task writhing in her seat in the stands. Her anxiety returning the moment the touch of Harry's mind fled her and took he the field.

She stood even as points were being awarded, ignoring the 'hey' from her peers as she left them behind, moving as fast as she could down the wooden steps and around the pitch.

She made it to the bottom when she was brought up short; a woman was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and Daphne recognized her immediately.

" _Pardon me, Ms. Malachite._ " Daphne began in french. " _Please, excuse me-"_

"I speak english, dear," Malachite dismissed. "And I was hoping to catch you."

Daphne froze. She had hoped that it was a coincidence that they ran into each other, but she had known it wasn't.

"What can I do for you, madam?" Daphne switched gears, feeling her mind race. She couldn't stay calm like Harry could, but she could emulate him a little.

"You can drop that tone for one. It works for Mr. Potter, but not for you." Malachite cut through Daphne's smokescreen. "And I was hoping we could talk. Girl to girl."

"I really don't have the time," Daphne. "I'm sure that girl talk can wait until later."

The older woman sighed in exasperation. "If you are too busy to talk then listen, girl. I'm sure Mr. Potter can wait."

Daphne noticed she was toying with her hair and stopped.

"I've heard a great deal about you Ms. Greengrass, and if I didn't know better, I'd say that being Harry Potter's friend is your only accomplishment." Malachite bit into Daphne with a smirk. "Your father's death was such a tragedy. Don't you think? Especially since he just so happened to be transferring all of his wealth when he died. But do you know what I kept thinking as I read about his death, why was he transferring between his own vaults to ones not connected to a family name."

Daphne flinched. She had been hoping to get ahold of her father's case file from Susan to find out what had happened to freeze their family assets. It was why she had traded Harry's dueling training to Susan.

That Malachite knew about where her father was transferring money to and Daphne didn't meant…

"You read my father's case file," Daphne accused.

"Smart girl," Malachite nodded.

"How did you get it?" Daphne pressed.

"Darling, if you put the right money in the right place anything is possible," Malachite explained patronizingly. "Now I had to ask myself why?"

"Why what?" Daphne wondered.

"Anyone could have been Harry Potter's best friend, so why you? Why was your father transferring money to vaults that only need a key to open?" She began to list. "Who has the keys to open them? Why haven't your family assets been unfrozen in the last ten years?"

If her father was transferring money like that, so that anyone with a key could get to it… was he planning to run? Or… He was being blackmailed?

Daphne wasn't sure. She didn't have all the details.

"What is it that you're using Harry for?" Malachite finished.

"I'm not using Harry! It's not like that!" Daphne protested, only to flinch at her mistake. She shouldn't have engaged the woman.

"Oh darling? Really?" Malachite condescended. "You just happened to sink your claws into the next great wizard by accident? A young prodigy of both mind magic and evocation who not thirty minutes ago killed a drake. Not to mention famous and destined to hold a seat of political power in England."

"Don't play the fool. Do you think he cares for you? Do you know anything about him? What he is afraid of? What he wants? Do you know? Does he know that about you?"

Daphne clenched her fists and occluded her mind. She knew how to play this game at least. Malachite was trying to do make her mad for… some reason. Maybe if she was Harry and could read minds she would know, but she wasn't.

"I've seen it before, girl and you've got it bad. Do you think being his friend makes you powerful? Makes you special? Do you think he won't throw you aside for his own dreams?"

"What do you want?" Daphne snapped.

"Now you want to cut to the chase? Very well. What I want, girl, is to have a chat. But since you don't want to talk girl to girl then listen, woman to girl."

Daphne opened her mouth to speak-

"Hush. My advice girl, is that you don't need him. I've met all three great wizards of the century and do you know what I have learned?" Malachite actually sounded genuine. "Every one of them pursued their visions to the exclusion of all else. He will never care for you more than he cares for his dreams. Not a single one of his contemporaries did. Dumbledore didn't, Grindelwald didn't, and the Dark Lord most certainly did not."

 _Harry isn't like any of them_. Daphne affirmed. _Malachite is wrong._

"You don't believe me." Malachite nodded and Daphne pulled her mind shut, just in case, but the woman didn't look angry or smug. She just looked sad and she looked at Daphne with eyes full of pity.

"You don't understand anything. You're just trying to get your revenge. Together, we beat the first task and your attempt to kill him failed," Daphne lashed out.

"You think you helped him?" Malachite asked bemusedly, denying nothing.

"Of course I did. I discovered what the beast was." Daphne felt some pride slip into her words. "I told him.

"Honey do you think he needed your help? Do you think you need his?" Malachite's expression didn't even flicker. "Go. Run to him," she dismissed. "Maybe he'll catch you in his arms."

Daphne stepped forward shakily and walked past the woman.

"But remember, the tournament isn't over yet," Malachite whispered.

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" _A plague of nightmares I invoke, to raise up from the ash and smoke. Spider's web and eye of newt, viper's venom and mandrake root. Harken yay to my commands, come forth to haunt these withered lands." -_ Nox Arcana Conjuration

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 **-WG**


	20. The Fool I

**Beta: Digitize27**

 **This time I control F-ed through the page looking for instances of me or I. I really think I got them all.**

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" _He who strikes terror into other is himself in continual fear" - Claudian_

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"-Madame Flamel awards him nine points." Badinter announced grandly. "And with that, Mr. Potter has been awarded by our judges a total of forty-six points. However, since, he slayed the beast, he is awarded an extra twenty points, bringing him into first place with sixty-six points!" His eyes gleamed. "Give it up for Mr. Potter!"

The crowd roared and their emotions surged, fluid, into Harry's mind. Harry capped them before they could overwhelm him, even as the force of it rocked him on his feet. His will was still greater and Harry held himself against the tide. This legilimency - practically empathy - worked a little on the large end of scale and the small end of result. It was wider than it was deep, but it was still as dangerous. Harry was willing as much magic as he dared towards the crowd in order to use their emotion as spells, more than he ever had for any individual in his life.

But he was still stronger and held the levies. Preventing the foreign emotions from overcoming him in a rush was a challenge but not one he wasn't prepared for.

Harry quickly withdrew into himself, feeling mind numbing exhaustion now that he was alone with his thoughts. The amount of will and focus he could manage was very low, leaving him just this side of conscious. Harry swayed and nearly collapsed on his feet, the will and power crafted around him faltering. He held his wand tight at his side. Using the collected energies which surrounded the focus, Harry did just that: focused.

It would be easy enough to grow addicted to that. The rush of power which came when Harry reached for the world and the world reached back was intense and when Harry channeled already existing powers to the exclusion of his own it was dangerous and not just from the mental side.

Holding that much power within himself was just dangerous because he couldn't control that much on his own. Reaching beyond his limits was like exercising any muscle beyond its capacity, there was a chance of injury. Except here it would be less tearing and more _combusting._

He could do that with emotional energies now. Adding his own twist to Dumbledore's special brew. Harry was powerful enough to draw on the emotions of his enemies as a point for power, even as he affected the emotions in question.

He could paralyze his enemies with a look.

He could drive his opponents mad and use their own madness to fund his own energy supply.

He wasn't something your average wizard was ready for.

Certainly not his supposed competition, standing beneath him. The Veela's hair was bedraggled and Krum looked decidedly singed. They weren't good enough to stand at his level. They deserved to be beneath him.

How many wizards had developed such a skill in all of history? It was an ability as legendary as any of the ancient Hindu Gods' with more practice.

The Apauruseya chose to manipulate matter, Harry chose to manipulate minds, and everyone knows how _that_ little idiom goes.

He knew his limits though, or thought he did. Harry was surrounded by men and women who had dedicated their lives to mastering their craft. Harry couldn't be foolish and show off everything he learned. Harry _could_ scare them though. Give them a taste of when he...

Did nothing.

Harry wasn't out to hurt anyone. He wanted nothing more than to study magic. That was the source of his power.

The intrusive cruel thoughts… they were a part of him but they didn't have to be. Harry has the power to choose - or perhaps the illusion of choice - and he chose to believe those thoughts came from beyond him.

He wanted to tell Dumbledore the truth sometimes, so that he might help, but then Harry remembered how he kept the truth about his connection to Voldemort a secret and just couldn't bring himself to trust the headmaster. Which was feeding into his misgivings because Harry _wanted_ to trust him.

When he had gained enough strength Harry reached out and touched Daphne's mind even as he shook hands with people and was showered by congratulations. Her mind was filled with- fear? He thought-

He dove for her mind a little more and watched the memory unfold.

 _[Malachite stood opposite me, arms crossed.]_

His talents allowed him to think faster than the average person. Augmenting his mind with Augeomancy allowed him to process that Malachite cornered a person who was… important to me? A person who he cared for and who cared for him. The only person, really.

 _Daphne is a lot to me._

He abruptly found himself shoved out of the memory and back into his own mind. Daphne had never done that before. Not even during practice.

Harry stumbled where he stood, mindlessly making his way out of the field and around the pitch to where he had seen and _known_ Malachite to be from the memory. If Malachite thought she could get at Harry by threatening Daphne, then she could join her fucking daughter.

Harry thought furiously.

He collected himself and ran, pushing people aside. Daphne's life could well depend on it, and they meant nothing to him. Harry swept around and took in the view. A lightning spell on his lips as he rounded the corner.

Daphne was there staggering. Blonde hair ruffled, blue eyes shining. Her body looked strained as she leaned against the wood that made up the walls of the pitch but she looked unhurt, thank Merlin.

His fury didn't abate in the slightest. "Where is that bitch?!" His eyes swept the area in a moment, not detecting Malachite even with his ability to sense people, but that was something she already showed herself able to avoid- he assumed through her shape shifting. He looked at the base of the staircase Harry had been standing at in Daphne's memory.

"Harry." Daphne wheezed. "Nothing happened. I swear." She sounded afraid.

 _How dare she._

"Where is she, I'll put her in a coma!"

Through his power he felt the pang of fear and looked around. The emotion drove him forward and he manipulated the air causing Daphne stumbled towards him. He caught her in his arms and put her behind him. One arm still around her as he took it in the sight, expanding out with his senses.

He could feel himself shaking from fear or anger. There was power in that. Enough for him to forget his exhaustion and pull heat and light from the world around him. He would protect her.

A more rational side of him pointed out that Daphne couldn't possibly be worried about Malachite hurting her in this public area. Not with the rest of the crowd hot on Daphne's heels, coming down the stairs There's no reason Daphne should be afraid.

 _Except… of me… or for me._

Everything clicked into place. Harry whipped around. "Daphne it's alright. I believe you." He tried to say. Harry was so exhausted and running on fumes that it didn't come out quite right. The emotions drained from him and with it went the energy.

She must have been terrified that he would be angry. He needed to make her understand. He wrapped her up in both arms and could smell the shampoo she used like honey in nose. She reached out and put her arms on his shoulders.

He was had survived the monster, triumphed even. She was okay too. Malachite hadn't hurt her, just scared her. He had scared her too. She was fine. She would be okay.

"It's okay," Harry whispered right into her hair. "I trust you."

She shivered in his arms.

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The ghost of Daphne's arms left haunted surfaces across his shoulders all that night. Where his clothes touched those places,Harryburned. So it was understandable that it was hard to sleep.

He was up thumbing through his things as quietly as he could, so as to not wake his train-car-mates. He felt little warmth and wasn't sure if it was from within him that the cold came or without. He didn't care either way. He wasn't scared of his own power, not any more. Today, Harry had proved himself in a true gauntlet; as a true and exceptional wizard. He felt more alive than ever.

He gazed across neatly stacked books and his enchanted belongings. Books Harry had collected and borrowed amongst the items he had made, like his pensieve and mirror.

Harry had taken Grindelwald at his word and read about the brain, so he had some books on that. Harry was trying to figure out what it was physically that he hanged when he touched the mind of someone else. Harry had several theories, yet each made what he attempted so effortlessly look staggeringly impossible.

He cautioned himself. Was he really so arrogant as to think he was an expert in the field? There were those that spent years studying the mind arts. Especially in light of what he had done to Malachite's daughter, Harry had redoubled his attempts to learn more and more about the esoteric skill.

 _It was complicated to say the least but I'd-_

His train of thought was interrupted by a soft vibration. He reached out and grabbed the mirror he had enchanted, sitting cross-legged on the floor with open books splayed out in front of him.

It was Lisa, and she didn't look happy.

"Well what do you have to say for yourself?" Her bright face demanded through the looking glass.

"About the Tarasque?"Harry clarified.

"No." She helpfully clarified with an unhelpful eye roll. "The Quidditch Pitch. Of course I mean the Tarasque."

"It was I or it."Harry responded, and it was true. If he hadn't killed the Tarasque before it set the whole pitch on fire, it would have killed him.

"But you didn't have to enjoy it."

"I didn't enjoy killing it,"Harry denied, though, that cruel part of him did, at least to some degree, but the rest of him wasn't happy it had died as much as gleeful that he was triumphant. So he told her the truth to some degree.

"Here you are, right here in the papers grinning about it?" Lisa held a paper up to the mirror.

"I was smiling because I was alive, not because it was dead," Harry affirmed. "Or do you not see the distinction. I'm sorry it's dead Lisa. Truly I am, but it was going to die anyway and I wasn't."

She looked frustrated but there didn't seem to be anything she could say to that. "I just…" She trailed off. She closed the mirror connection.

That was fine. Harry had Daphne. Even if all of the others abandoned him he'd still have her. So long as Lisa doesn't actually turn on him like Hermione did, Harry would be fine.

 _But if both of_ them _did…_

He ignored the intrusive thought. He would find a way to get back at Hermione. She had, after all, dragged Sirius Black into his life. She could do worse him if she wasn't stopped.

But the fact of the matter about Lisa was right. A cruel part of him had enjoyed what happened. A sicker part of him wondered if that was where he drew power from.

After all if something was different about him that let him draw upon magic differently, couldn't that be it? Whatever the case, it didn't feel like coincidence that he was both mentally different, and _magically_ different.

Harry wondered if in Dumbledore there was a cruel part too.

He assumed that there was.

He was pretty sure he knew what it was too.

He reached out with a flex of will. A quill charmed to an inkwell and a particular piece of parchment from the box Daphne gave him.

 **These three items from your story, what do you and Dumbledore have to do with them?**

There was no call from Luna this time.

He knew what he wanted.

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Susan met with him behind the train car early that next morning. Harry noticed that this time they had an audience. Malachite's man came to watch him play with magic. Harry knew it was him by the distant grating of his presence against his mind.

Next was his Hogwarts year. Ernie, Su Li, Michael, and Daphne. But there was also Astoria and another girl from Astoria's year with her.

Daphne brought him toast from the cafeteria which Harry chewed on as he began to think of what to teach Susan.

"Will you go talk to them." He whispered to Daphne. She gave him a nod and walked towards his year-mates.

He could see them all. Not with his eyes, but with his mind. With his _magic_.

"We'll work on redirecting spells,"Harry told Susan quietly. "If that's alright with you?"

There was a pause where she said nothing until she realized Harry was actually asking if it was alright with her.

"That's fine," she rushed out, intimidated by his presence. Harry could see the mark he'd left upon her mind clear as day. Not with his Legilimency, but by learning from him, being around him.

"Redirecting spells is easy, if you know the spell being cast and it can be blocked. Dodging is almost always a better option."

"So what if you don't know the spell being cast?" She asked.

"You can risk a deflection,"Harry answered. "But without knowing the properties of a spell it can backfire fast. Ideally a person casts the shield charm simultaneously with the intent to redirect, offering a bit of protection. The intent to defend and the intent to _deflect_ are fairly similar so most people can get by with it."

"Is that what you do?" She asked.

In a real duel Harry had quite a few tools to bring to bear. It would take the rare Occlumens to surprise him with a spell. So long as Harry had eye contact he could bring out some fight ending weapons really fast.

He could stop someone or predict their every move like he was seeing the future. He could unmake their plans and engage in a multifront conflict on his terms.

He was the exception, though.

"When I do feel like redirecting."Harry nodded. "I'll show you how it's done. Cast a stinging hex at me, then practice with the shield charm and the intent to deflect."

Her eyes flicked to the side and Harry could tell there was something about the idea she didn't like.

 _Oh, that's right. People are afraid of me._

"Michael,"Harry said without turning around. "Can you cast a shield charm."

Harry felt him run a hand through his hair with the air currents around him.

"Not very well."

"Would you like to?" Harry asked turning around.

He smiled gently at his peers in his best approximation of Dumbledore's grandfatherly, kind smile.

He recalled what he'd had told Tracy about basic techniques of the shield charm second year. He went down the line and helped every single one of them until they could cast it. When he compared redirecting spells to transfiguration, no one questioned his wisdom. When he recommended that Su practice with an extra flick of her wand as he had told Tracy years ago, she accepted it wholeheartedly. They trusted his wisdom in regards to magic.

Magic governed their lives, thus, they came to Harry.

He brought the lecture around and accepted an apple from Daphne, deciding to make his way to the room he'd taken up in the library. Daphne following close at his heels.

She stuck around with him for a few hours before something or other took her attention. Harry assumed it had something to do with his presentation yesterday or this morning.

It was then when Harry was alone that it happened. Dumbledore came to find him. "Harry. I had rather hoped not to see Grindelwald's spells. I am unsure where you even saw those spells."

Harry looked at him like he didn't know, like Harry didn't know that in his possession was the famed elder wand, like he didn't know that he, himself possessed the cloak of death. That's why Dumbledore trusted it to hold against Malachite. That was why Dumbledore had it when his family died. But because of Grindelwald Harry knew. Grindelwald had been very thorough. It was his life's work to rival Dumbledore. To stop now would have grated the former Dark Lord.

Harry knew all that.

He also knew what answers would sway Dumbledore. "The space spell I used was his, but I think we can both agree I modified it."

"That we can." Dumbledore took a seat in the table. Harry could almost hear the professor's thoughts; his occlumency game was off, or perhaps Harry was just stronger now than before. Instead he made do with reading Dumbledore's emotions, which served as close echoes to his thoughts that Harry could feel wafting off of the headmaster. Concern, worry, and a little bit of genuine fear. "But that's hardly the point and I think we can both also agree on that. It's a dangerous path you are leaning towards."

Harry knew what Dumbledore saw. A prodigy gaining a following and power. A prodigy he'd seen before in Tom. But Harry also knew Dumbledore saw himself in him. He too had to know that he had no small following.

"We both know it's not that simple. All his spells were modified, elegant, and to save my life." Harry put the ball in the headmaster's court. "Or do we finally disagree?"

"Harry, I believe Grindelwald is a poor role model for you. On that we disagree." Dumbledore gazed into Harry's eyes, his own glimmering.

"Am I to think that I should never use a space-based spell? Like apparition?" Harry countered. "We agree that Grindelwald is a poor role model… ethically. Magically he's fantastic. I've been reading about Nurmengard, because it's only rivaled by Hogwarts in terms of wards," Harry finished. Let's see him beat that.

Except evidently he could. "The man begets the magic. Unless you can truly see past it, his magic will haunt you. Not to mention Malachite or others could recognize the same thing I had."

Harry was forced to concede his first and second points.

"She'll recognize it as a generic space rending spell. She couldn't possibly recognize that they were the same spell except modified. Besides, it's unlikely anyone will recognize Grindelwald's spells as readily as you can."

"True." Dumbledore gave Harry a point. "But then why did she leave campus afterwards?"

"What?" Dumbledore had caught him and Harry had to give the point right back.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded finding purchase. "She left promptly after your show yesterday. Your actions have consequences Harry."

He had to concede. It was hard to deal with, given the extent Harry had betrayed Dumbledore's trust even as he sought to keep him safe. Even now Harry planned to meet with the headmaster's chief rival in the prison he himself had put said rival in.

The Dark Lord's desire to meet with him in person at his prison was all the more possible with the cloak in his book-bag. Harry still hungered for Grindelwald's private collection. Two of Dumbledore's spells had catapulted his power. A hundred of Grindelwald's…well, Harry could do a great deal with all that.

Before all of that was this tournament. This first task could have killed him and while the first task most likely kills the most people, that ironically doesn't _necessarily_ make it the most dangerous. Simply by going first, the first task boasted the highest mortality rates of the tournaments Harry had looked at in the past. Still, Harry felt accomplished with what he had done.

Dumbledore couldn't take that from him.

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Dumbledore left and someone else swiftly took his place.

"Harry, can we talk?" It was Daphne sneaking up on him in the library. "You-uh- you haven't uh-"

"Been in your mind?" Harry waved a hand and a seat pulled out at the table he was at. She gave a tentative nod as she sat. "I don't think it's such a good idea for him to be in your mind."

"Harry, I don-"

"It's not because you talked to Malachite." Harry affirmed. Giving her an honest smile. "I'm-"

"Don't you even care?!" She snapped. "Every day I worry you'll toss me aside like you did Hermione and-"

"You need me," Harry finished. He knew she had plans. Plans she couldn't do without him so they were something he'd be involved in, but if it was for her, Harry could bring himself to care. He could bring himself to involve himself. He'd do a lot if Daphne asked. "I need you too, Daphne. It's okay. I told you I wanted to take you to the house I grew up in, didn't I? Dumbledore would think it's not wise but I'll do it with you."

"You still mean that?" Her eyes were shining and she wasn't looking at him. She wiped her face. Her outbursts had left her face red and her eyes bulging with contained tears. She was an ugly crier.

She didn't have to ask, though.

"Daphne I'm worried about the effect I'm having on your mind." Harry breathed in. "But that doesn't make us any less of friends. I actually wanted to ask for your help."

Her eyes widened slightly and she flicked her blonde hair back. "You want my help?" She couldn't hide her excitement. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to touch some stuff in my childhood house." Harry told her honestly. "I want to know how they died and I want to know if Pettigrew really did it."

"Of course I'll help you, Harry." She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. "When are we leaving?"

"Whenever you want." Her crystal blue eyes narrowed.

"Then about this morning...?" She trailed off. "You're trying to get followers."

He shrugged. "You recommended I gain a following."

"I asked if you were building followers."

"Isn't that what I said?"

"Not quite," she corrected; which Harry accepted without complaint.

"You already have a base. Just leave that to me." Harry could do that.

"I'm going to need it." If Harry was correct about how magic worked in general, then gaining followers would increase his power. Them placing him above them metaphorically would in turn place him above them literally.

"Then we can get it," she agreed. She was worrying her lip at me. "What made you change your mind?"

 _Perspective._

"I realized what I should do to make my dreams come true," Harry replied honestly. "Gaining followers and _more powerful_ followers would make me more powerful. In a literal and magical way." Harry paused, but already felt confident of her answer. "Will you help me?"

"Of course." She gave a slightly sassy smirk. Lips forming a graceful line. "So about leaving when I wanted…"

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A girl in the street dropped her jaw at his appearance. Harry looked at her and saw her burying a cat, over five years ago. He cast his eyes away from the muggle as she stood to leave in order to tell someone what she'd seen.

Harry could well imagine how the ministry and Dumbledore would react to find out he was here. Which wasn't good to say the least in their respective ways.

If Dumbledore found out Harry was here, then he would be… disappointed, to say the least. So Harry really didn't want him to find out.

He would say it was a trap to come back here, and the truth was he could be right.

Harry didn't so much as look at the girl as she turned down the street and plucked the memory from her mind. He had no reason to get eye contact with a muggle. She immediately stopped running and cocked her head.

An intrusive thought wormed into his mind of a day five years ago where Harry stared at the creepy kid at school in his _-her_ early youth.

He pushed it out and reestablished the clear boundaries between her and his own mind, crafting for her a quick compulsion to leave before moving on, pulling Daphne with him.

This was the plan. She goes in, touches some stuff and finds out how Pettigrew found and murdered his last remaining relatives, while he erased the memories of anyone they came across, then they went back to school for dinner.

He would find out what happened to his dead relatives and together they would approach stopping Voldemort from using mind magic on him again and or trying to kill him. While Harry also handled Malachite, breaking into Nurmengard, and the imminent threat on his life enforced by a magical goblet.

He was really struggling to deal with all that while trying to figure out who could and would betray him from his former and current friends.

He waved his hand and with a flex od will the door clicked open. A simple charm was all that was necessary to unlock the unenchanted entrance.

He held his breath, ignoring the feelings pressing into his experiencing as he raced into the not-quite-familiar building. It set his teeth on edge.

"Are you alright Harry?" Daphne asked. Harry finally exhaled.

"I'm fine,"Harry lied, feeling stressed by being in the current environment but obviously he couldn't tell her that even though he had invited her and her questions. It wasn't really a lie though, because she knew he was lying.

"Please just, let me see what you find?"Harry pleaded.

She tapped her temple. "You mean…?"

Harry nodded, clearing his thoughts as he leaned against the wall.

"Hello, is anyone there?" Harry heard from the bedroom above. A young man reached the top of the stares and looked down at him.

Harry met his eyes.

He turned around and went to lay down in Dudley's old room. One of Dudley's old rooms.

The man's housemates wouldn't be back for a while. They were a group of bachelors who were taking advantage of how low the renting cost was due to the murders, of course. Harry resolved to not worry about the group.

"Daphne, I have a lot I want to tell you," Harry said as she reached towards the cupboard handle. She made her decision of what to touch first well. An object with a lot of history of interactions was probably more dangerous but also had a deeper amount of information.

He was beginning to see a correlation between danger and knowledge in terms of magic. Not just for Daphne, but for him too. From Grindelwald to his own psychic powers this ranged true. The more minds Harry touched the more minds touched him back and became a part of a growing outside influence.

And for Luna too. She too receives the pure unalterable truth in exchange for the rape of her mind.

Which was more than concerning when put like that.

"Harry… What happened here?" She was looking at him next to that fucking cupboard. "Did… did they… did they hurt you here?"

Harry nodded at her.

"Oh, Harry."

"Stop please,"Harry begged. He caught himself rubbing his chin and relaxed his arm. "Just… let me know what you find out about how they died."

She nodded. "But will we… um…."

"We'll talk later," Harry promised. "Sure."

"Okay," she thanked him.

She traced a hand along the wall gently, wary of touching anything unexpected. Her eyes set themselves in a thousand-yard stare. "It was fast. Over, that is. Your cousin." She seemed to snap back here for a moment. She gave her head a quick shake, but when she opened her eyes again; she was gone. "I'll give you the memory later or you could go inside my head." She paused one more.

The knowledge must have taken a toll. She sounded exhausted as she swept along the stairs. Going up.

"I've seen the whole thing," she whispered. Her voice sounded… airy as she gently rested a hand on the stair handrail.

To be honest she sounded frightfully like Luna did. Over stimulated and drunk on knowledge. "We can leave now but this, Harry… the whole house. It's not like Hogwarts which has so much history I can't decipher much of it, here I can make and take whole memories. I've never tried this before. Searching for a certain point in time. It's...different." She began to babble and Harry grew concerned, his heart rate increased as Harry listened to her maddened tone. Her mood having flipped on the proverbial galleon.

It made him wonder less about what she had seen and more about what she had _felt_ as she searched for the most brutal part of the house's history. It probably was not very pleasant.

He felt guilty. Harry had known these dangers and asked anyway but he trusted her to be strong. Harry had felt her legilimency defense when she accidentally repelled him yesterday and Harry knew she could take it, but that didn't mean Harry had to like it.

Besides they would talk later.

"Then let's go."

She nodded, making her way down the stairs and towards the door. She was very careful in not touching the banister or the walls. Her shoulders raised as though she was being compressed. It just made him feel guiltier watching her walk out almost shaking.

"I'm sorry an-"

"Harry," she interrupted, voice tense like a wire.

"-and thank you,"Harry mustered out over her as he stepped behind her outwards.

"Harry," she said louder and more urgently. Harry looked at her worriedly. Had the house affected her that badly?

His gaze swept the street following the direction of her stare.

There was a man there. Just standing in the street. He wore a set of dark robes, tarnished by use. He had a handsome face with well-trimmed hair, but he had a mad glint in his eyes that made Harry pause from looking into him.

"The Boy Who Lived," the man whispered. "Finally."

"Daphne get behind me." Harry stepped in front of her and out onto the former Dursley's driveway. Harry felt her step back into the house through the air.

He felt the anti-apparition ward the man had settled over the area. He had laid it with time and Harry hadn't noticed as he'd walked in. Anti-portkey too. Harry cursed himself. He should have noticed those, noticed _him_.

 _Didn't pay enough attention. I didn't_ think _; and now Dumbledore had been right, it was a trap._

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 **Next is 'The Fool II'**

 **-WG**


	21. The Fool II

**Beta: Digitize27**

 **What happens if we take Pettigrew's metal hand and run with it?**

 **Part II of 'The Fool'**

 **Please let me know what you think, my writing is different now, or so I've been told. I was recently diagnosed with some psychotic symptoms and am on a lot of different drugs. Just let me know if you think I should take a break until I get better.**

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Daphne swayed on her feet. Harry gently pushed her back towards the house.

"Get down and go out the back door. We'll meet up."

"Harry-"

"-Trust me," he insisted.

Had this guy set up an anti-apparition ward around them without Harry noticing or - perhaps more concerning - had they missed it and walked right into it.

But before all that -

"What can I do for you?" Harry called across the street.

Harry had his wand in his free hand and tightened his grip slowly. The temperature began to drop as he gathered power. Frost crept along the asphalt and his breath came out in silvery condensation.

"I'm here at the behest of my lord."

"Malachite?" Harry asked. "Or Voldemort?"

"You dare speak the Lord's name?" The man hissed back. Harry took a long look at him, finally able to meet his eyes.

Harry felt a flash of pain. He reached out and there was nothing. It was vile, unnatural and made him recoil. The sight of the man's face nearly had the same effect as the failed legilimency.

The man's eyes were made of metal, along with a portion of his head. There was a key behind the man's ear and it rotated like a wind-up clock. Like the man's whole head was some clock-maker's artifice.

"I do," Harry answered. Daphne should have reached the back door by now. Harry reached out with his mind. She was… watching him from the windows. He touched her presence with his own.

 _Run Daphne!_

 _[Use your legilimency!]_

Harry let his image of the man's face flow into Daphne's mind, but risked it all the same.

" _Legilimens!_ " Harry cried out in pain from the attempt. There was nothing to latch onto. It was as though he had slammed into the ground head first and rattled his brain in his skull.

"Foolish boy." The man scoffed. The man's mind was as alien as the Tarasque's.

Harry felt Daphne's horror by proxy and cut the connection.

"Your master sent you to confront a centennial wizard," Harry said. "And you aren't one. Which of us is the fool?"

"My Lord has prepared me for you." The man smirked. His lower jaw was that same metal, along with the left half of his face leading up to those mercury eyes. "He mentioned that much like himself, you are gifted with the mind arts."

The modifications to the man… they were Voldemort's work? Was that why he hadn't felt him?

"What did you let him do to you?" Harry asked.

"My lord has a way with metal and rituals." The man answered. He reached down to the ground and picked up a small pebble between his fingers. A flex of his wrist and it was dust. "My master often gave gifts to his most loyal servants and repaired their bodies from injury."

As an aside, that was kind of brilliant. Harry absently wondered if Neville would let Harry do something similar. He was willing to bet he could do all kinds of things like - well off the top of his head - he could probably make someone immune to pain.

He shook his head. Thoughts like that led to Grindelwald's expulsion, and were no doubt steps on the path to becoming the monster that had done _this_ in the first place.

"And your name?"

"I am a servant of my lord." The man sneered. "That is all."

"Of course you are." Harry grinned. "Doesn't matter, because unless he turned you into a faraday cage..." Harry lifted his wand casting protections with the slight movements as he finished gathering energy. " _Fulminus_."

The bolt lit up the world in emerald green. Harry felt surprise. He hadn't been focusing on color, only effect. The bolt collided with the man and behind the resulting incandescent flash he couldn't make out what happened until the light died down.

Harry could smell something burning over the overpowering scent of ozone. It was crisp and clean, the smell made Harry's mouth widen into a smirk, but when the light died down the smile fell from his face.

The man was standing there with his clothes melted off, pushed or otherwise tossed down the street. His body really was mostly metal with fleshy parts now mostly burned off of him. But the metal parts… they looked fine apart from the fact they were glowing, and the heat seemed to be flowing upwards, and-

Harry felt the energy he had emitted be… _stolen from him?_ It was an odd pulling sensation until-

Harry summoned a shield of air and magic in front of him and was still driven back. He felt himself slide until he reached the Durlsey's former garage. There was a metallic screech from the man and the heat intensified.

A pop followed, he abruptly lost control of the air and-

Harry looked around inside the Dursley's garage. His whole body aching. He had been thrown right through the thin metal of the garage door.

He glanced down. His bark skin had protected him, to a degree, until it just… cracked. Fissures ran across his arms and blood welled from within, running in little crimson rivulets across his skin.

" _Episkey_ ," he tried, before remembering his flesh was no longer normal flesh and instead transfigured it back together. He finished in time to see the garage door be ripped off the hinges and flung down into the street by an unholy amalgamation of metal and scorched flesh. It raised a dark, smouldering wand at him.

Harry flicked his own hand up and pulled his opponent's wand upward with the air. Three spells shot wide - stunners by the look of them, although they could have just as easily been the dark red of the cruciatus.

Harry clenched his fist but try as he might he couldn't crush the – for lack of a better word – cyborg's arm. He screamed and pressed his magic to the limit, honing the air into a thousand blades to slice and dice the man's flesh.

The windows in the garage blew out along with the door into the house to Harry's right. The man was flung out into the street and bounced across it with a metallic clank. His arms and chest were still glowing from the heat when he started to stand once more.

"Harry, are things going well?" He heard Daphne call.

Harry stood up and ran into the house as fast as he could. Then he forced the air around him to move him even faster. He tore through the house, literally ripping down walls until he found Daphne.

He screamed something unintelligible and grabbed her. His heart beat frantically until it reached his throat.

 _I could escape… but it may mean leaving Daphne behind to be killed._

That wasn't an option. She was all he had.

He literally flew towards the backdoor on the wing of wind and will until he burst straight through it. He waved his wand and from it flew explosive meteors. They flew back into the house and detonated inside. Harry shielded himself and Daphne as best as he could and never stopped running.

He didn't bother to look back as he burst through the fence in the Dursley's back yard and kept half-running, half-flying.

 _We should be out of the anti-apparition ward here._

Harry attempted to move through space, imagining Hogsmeade first and foremost as he tried to shove them both through a pinprick in the world.

He experienced the uncomfortable sensation of his organs being pushed back as the attempt failed.

Daphne retched next to him but he didn't have time to stop.

The anti-apparition ward was _moving._ It was moving _quickly_ towards him from the direction of inside the collapsing house.

Harry heard the man curse as he was buried beneath falling material.

It wasn't something he would have thought of, tying entrapment wards to a single person. It shouldn't have been possible. It _was_ impossible. But the thing chasing them wasn't a person. Maybe once, but not anymore.

Wards like these should have been tied to an object, which made the question of whether the manton effect still applied to the man fairly prevalent. If Harry enchanted a ward-stone then put it into someone the effect of the ward should stop at the surface of the person's skin.

It wasn't something Harry knew how to confront, which was likely why the man's modifications had been done. Escape was his and Daphne's best chance. He inhaled a breath of dusty air. The wreckage of the Dursley's house had thrown dirt and wood into the air. The drywall probably wasn't healthy to breath. A shame that, assuming the man still needed to breath.

He took a moment to hope there was nobody between him and the front of the next house and grabbed Daphne tight. " _Praefigo!_ " He thrust his wand forward, following it with his body, and flew. It wasn't a true spell - let alone the piercing hex - or something he had even ever practiced, but it was a part of his control of air and he moved in a rush of wind straight through the house in a heartbeat before bouncing hard off the car parked in the garage.

He got up again.

He wasn't making enough progress to keep running.

Someone somewhere knew he was here from the spells he had cast but there was no doubt that most people sent would be killed.

"Put this on." He tossed her his invisibility cloak. "Now!"

She fumbled with it.

"Wha- Your cloak? I'm not just going to-"

"I can't fight it and keep you safe at the same time, put the cloak on! I'll try to apparate out, but I can't put it down long enough if I have to keep running with you."

The no-longer-a-man was free of the Dursley's rubble. Harry could feel it moving through the air and into the house.

There was a muggle child in the house, it was the girl, the one he had sent home. She was standing in the kitchen looking through the hole all the way out into the garage and back out into the backyard. Her eyes were wide with terror and it was obvious when she noticed the thing that should have belonged in a James Cameron film.

She screamed at the sight of the gleaming silver ribcage and sternum of the man. His half-flesh face was burned and bruised and the merging between flesh and metal wasn't seamless. It looked like it had been bolted to his skull.

Harry turned away and pushed Daphne towards the corner of the garage. He flexed his wrist a moment later and blew the side door of the garage off of its hinges.

"Hide! Please!" He begged.

Harry stepped back to look through the hole and saw the metal man stepping over a corpse. Brains and blood oozed from the girl's ears and mouth. The top half of her face was a bloody crushed mess. He had crushed her like an orange. Her body twitched as blood began to pool on the tiles. Someone else in the house screamed and the man looked away.

" _Reducto_!" Harry's spell caught the man center of mass and blew him all the way back to the fence. Beneath the man's sternum Harry saw twisting gears and a soft inner light as he struggled to stand up again.

Harry tore his way out of the garage and out into the street, trusting the aspect of Death to keep Daphne safe.

He strongly suspected the man was under orders to leave no witnesses. Though whoever ordered him to do so seemed to have not realized the man's cruel and brutal edge. It made him think twice about leaving Daphne but if she were to run she would be safe and he could fight unabated.

He never thought he would face a wizard he couldn`t use legilimency against, and so far it was terrifying. How did people get by without knowing whether someone was lying? How could they react in time to the wide variety spells which existed when they didn't know which spell was being cast? Maybe he was being petulant but he liked to know what his enemies were about to do.

Harry felt as much as he heard the man kill someone else in the house and cast minute meteor a dozen times.

The man tore the front door off of its hinges and casually through it out onto the lawn. Metal gleamed in both arms and legs. Gears turned around the man's shoulders and hips as he stepped towards Harry.

"Are you done running, boy?" The man spoke. "I lack the patience to chase you but I shall do as my master commands. You _will_ come with me. _Incarcerous!_ " Dark ropes leapt from his wand toward Harry.

" _Impetresco_." They crumbled to dust in mid-air. The man whipped his wand through the air and Harry couldn't see whatever effect it had. He felt a disturbance behind him and intensified the disintegration.

Some transfiguration was reaching out to grab him and simply fell apart instead.

Harry wheezed, sucking in air. He had been exhausted yesterday and it seemed he had yet to recover his full strength. As a side the disintegration curse took a lot out of him.

Harry let the meteors shower the man in a barrage, turning the lawn into a hellscape of shrapnel and fire. He reached out and began to pull the heat towards him. It was like a reverse flame thrower with the fire flowing towards his outstretched hand.

The man walked through the blast like he was experiencing a headwind, lifting his arm to shield his eyes, Harry could feel the heat rushing to the automaton at the same time it rushed towards him, it was a race to see who could gather the energy back.

The man's cybernetic parts began to glow a phosphorescent orange before he released all that pent-up energy in a single, powerful burst. The fire incinerated what was left of the lawn before spreading over the asphalt in a wave.

The asphalt began to run down the gutter as a liquid while Harry manipulated the air. The heat whipped around him but never touched him, rushing instead into his open hand. A metal arm ripped through the air and fire and grabbed at Harry. A rush of air carried him away from the grasping hand and to the opposite sidewalk.

He raised his wand and conducted the lightning through him. The man was a blur and sidestepped the bolt.

The green bolt struck the house instead and collided with the interior, cleanly missing his opponent. The retort was a clear, near-invisible spell that raced towards Harry. When it struck his shield, the spell stopped but it made a gonging sound that rocked Harry on his feet.

He stumbled and reached a hand up towards his ears, his fingers coming away red. Harry refocused, ignoring the ringing in his ears and pulling at the world around him, he still needed the energy.

Rocks flew towards him, ripping chunks of asphalt that whirled towards his face. He sidestepped one, ducked under another, and shattered a third. He transfigured the fragments into a flock of birds which back-wheeled towards the man with talons extended.

It granted him hardly a moment against the unstoppable juggernaut of blackened flesh and steel. The man caught one of the birds out of the air and crushed it. The teen was able to see wires glowing, starting from the man's abdomen and then stretching outwards until the heat burst out.

He fired half a dozen spells in a heartbeat, then half a dozen more. Spells like the bone breaking curse would be useless, there were no bones in the man's body to break.

He didn't need to win though. He just needed to hold the man off until help could arrive. Surely someone knew he was here and that he wasn't stopping casting. As soon as Dumbledore found out he would be on his way.

The puncturing curse, body-locking hex, and the cutting curse all rocketed towards the man. The Death-Eater carefully and casually blocked the body-locking hex with a shimmering golden barrier. He allowed the others to splash harmlessly against his body.

Harry allowed himself a moment to breath and the man capitalized on it. He summoned the pavement to grab at Harry's feet and Harry stepped back, stumbling over the grasping hands. The automaton took careful aim and fired spells all meant to stun or immobilize his young opponent.

Harry blocked them all with shining barrier of crystal-clear ice. The assault shattered the barrier and Harry sent the shards of fragmented material towards the man with a wave of his hand. He followed it up with a bludgeoning hex.

The man stepped through the ice but was knocked to the ground by the spell. Harry cast the Reductor Curse again, taking careful aim. The moment seemed to slow down as he focused and fired. Metal fragments flew from the thing's body as the spell struck and the wave of force sent the man skidding across the street.

Harry stepped forwards and kicked a metallic rib, the piece he had been aiming for, away from them both.

The man darted his wand outwards towards Harry, a golden circle appearing before the wand and promptly collapsed, shattering into a score of glowing golden darts. The darts raced towards Harry who flew on his will perpendicular away, but the spell changed directions without slowing down and he felt each one strike his body distantly.

His head slammed into the pavement, hard, which left his thoughts swimming. He struggled to stand-up, but found his arms limp and unresponsive. He almost vomited and knew he was concussed.

He looked up in time to see the man standing over him. Harry tried to use the wind to dart away but the man's arm lashed out faster than Harry could hope to escape from.

There was a distant sounding crunch as his arm snapped under the metallic fingers. He screamed, but found his voice cut out when the man's other hand reached and grabbed his throat.

He felt himself rise into the air and reached his remaining arm out and grasped in futility at the metallic limb around his neck.

Harry could only flail awkwardly as his vision tunneled, grasping desperately at the dimming world. Searching for anything, anything at all to turn the fight back in his favor, preferably before he passed out.

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Daphne had never felt so useless in her entire life as she watched the fight unfold. She could only peer from beneath the cloak, standing to the side of the house as Harry unleashed a storm of lights at the cyborg. They exploded with enough force that a tree in the front yard splintered, sending shards of wood in every direction. She hit the ground to try and protect herself from the flying shrapnel and her nostrils were filled with the scent of dirt.

She got to her feet and watched the bolt of lightning strike the house. She wasn't sure how Harry did it. She herself wasn't a fighter and she had always seen him as more of the scholarly type.

Her legs shook as she watched the viscera dripping from the man's hand. Perhaps it was for the best he had given her the cloak. She was just in his way, like Malachite had said. She resented it, but it was hard to argue with the results when he blocked the man's spells with ice-like glass and shot the fragments back. He just seemed to flow.

She couldn't compete with that.

But then again he had told her not to compete with her. That that was what drove a wedge between him and Hermione.

That had been scary, still was. If he could discard a friend like it meant nothing he could do it to her too.

Except he hadn't.

She felt the silvery material of the cloak between her fingers. It was smooth and it held nothing. There was nothing for her power to touch. It was as though the material really wasn't there at all. Even new things had memories, but this cloak had nothing at all.

Harry wounded the man. A silver rib bounced across the street near where she crouched hidden.

He looked so strong standing there alone.

She knew the truth, had felt it herself. He worried for her. He wanted her by his side. He wanted to help her and he wanted to be helped by her in turn. _That_ was the difference between her and Hermione.

It had scared her, really. But he brought her here. She had seen what had been done to him, felt it to a degree, which was why this amnesiac cloak was a Godsend. It had been exhausting watching and feeling all that. Seeing a sniveling man murder his family had been bad, but even worse had been seeing the welts on her best friend's head from his aunt's frying pan.

Suddenly a great deal of his nature had clicked into place.

It was hard facing the truth, but Harry wasn't the sort of person who holding hands or kissing would mean things to. This place had made him that way. But then, now neither was she.

She could never tell that sort of thing to her easy-to-tease sister - just one bad nickname was all it took to get her flustered; she would never understand.

The truth was he let Hermione go because she wanted to go and he held Daphne so close to him yesterday because she _didn't_.

He brought her here. He trusted her. That did all kinds of things to her still uneasy gut. Good things mostly, but there were fears too. Everyone was like that though. Everyone had insecurities, especially regarding the people they care about.

She almost cried out when Harry hit the pavement. His body did a horrible bounce that made her legs queasy and she almost screamed with him when his arm snapped.

Yes, she had plans. Who didn't? Find out how her family's vaults were frozen, reclaim her old political power. Harry could help with that. It made her feel bad, like she was using him. But that was how friendship worked. You give and take and it's okay.

So it was an easy decision really; stay quiet, or do something, anything, for her crush. She mustered herself. Using her skills in Occlumency, honed over precious lessons, she dredged up her courage.

She raised her wand at the same time the man raised Harry and pulled the cloak off. She felt queasy, her stomach still all over from earlier.

She focused like the boy she loved had taught her. " _Stupefy!_ "

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The spell glanced harmlessly off the man, who almost lazily turned back towards the house. To the side of it, mouth open in horror, was Daphne. Her eyes were set in determination, but she couldn't even attempt to hide her fear.

" _Reducto_!"

Harry's vision blurred as he hit the pavement hard, he wasn't sure whether the man had thrown him at the ground or merely dropped him.

From his view at the man's feet he saw the wand rise. He reached out and grabbed the man's leg and channeled his power. Ice crawled up the limb, higher and higher until it reached his torso. The man didn't appear to feel it at all, calmly levelling his wand at Daphne.

The frost crawled over his hand and wand as the man began the incantation to the killing curse. "Avada Ka- What?"

"Don't tell me…" Harry began, slowly picking himself up. The man struggled, but the gears and wires were frozen stiff. Harry almost fell over, but reclaimed his balance with only the slightest stagger and reached his feet. "Don't tell me Voldemort didn't _winterize_ you."

Harry tackled the man and they both hit the ground with a dull thud. Ice shattered, and the man's newly freed hand reached down for the teen but Harry caught it in his own and froze it solid. The metal internals gave a low screech as the ice warped the frame.

The man snarled and Harry watched the internal circuitry in his chest light up again. That dangerous rush of heat the man contained would scorch him at this range. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was up to and Harry stuck his hand into the man's chest, freezing it as fast as it heated up.

The ice formed and thawed, gears were bent and twisted out of place. The cold seeped into every crack and expanded ruthlessly. Harry watched as pieces of the man fell clear from his body in the process of freezing and refreezing.

The man's chest was still heating up and growing warmer all the time. Harry jammed his fingers deeper and deeper in, ignoring the heat which licked at them and focused all his will, all his desire to protect Daphne. That fear was worked into a wicked cold edge that he mercilessly drove as deep as he could into the clockwork abomination.

Some of the heat Harry outright annihilated but in his effort to reach the maximum effect possible he was conducting some of it too. His whole body was heating up as he absorbed more and more energy. One moment he was sweating and felt like he was running a fever and in the next his body literally started to smoke.

Harry ignored the minor detail of possible self-immolation and pressed further, pushing flesh and wires aside to grasp at something beating at the very heart of the man.

Harry watched the last few gears shudder to a halting stop and he screamed in honest agony, his insides burning like coals. He could almost imagine his own organs glowing like his enemy's once had.

Then he collapsed and knew nothing.

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 **The Skaz of Pavel Bazhof: Excerpt 'Go I Know Not Whither and Fetch I Know Not What'**

A table appeared, and on the table was wine and savoury meats; whatever the soul desired was there with the wishing. The merchant sighed for envy. "Come," said him, "let us make an exchange. Thou give me thy servant, and take from me what marvels thou likest best."

"But what marvels have ye then?"

"Look on and see!"

And the merchant drew out of his pocket a stone pebble. He turned it thrice in hand and out from the pebble a thousand ghosts stirred, no sooner had the ghosts stirred that a thousand more of the raised dead rose. They drew a light to them, at once belonging and without from this world. An army appeared, both horse and foot.

The merchant drew from beneath the folds of his garment a knotted stick, and began to tap with it: "Rap-tap!" out came a ship. "Rap-tap!" out came another ship. A hundred times he rapped, and made a hundred ships with sails and weapons. The dead manned the ships in their ghostly forms, a sword and spear each amongst them.

Third, the merchant produced his cloak and shielded beneath it, no harm could befall him, as he couldn't be found. Not by magical craft, nor any of the senses a man may possess.

And through all the ranks went the roll of martial music, and the armour of the warriors flashed like fire in the sunlight. The merchant rejoiced in it all.

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" _Terror made him cruel" - Emily Bronte_

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 **This except of 'Go I know Not whither and Fetch I know not what' is not my own. The translation it belongs to is owned by Robert Nisbet Bain and has been modified for the sake of a non-profit fanfiction.**

 **-WG**


	22. Collecting I

**Beta: Digitize27**

 **Collecting Part I**

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" _The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together._ " - Shakespeare, All's Well that Ends Well

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Harry's head swam as he came slowly into consciousness. He grew more and more powerful in his dream until, eventually, he was awake. It was an odd sensation; like he was filling an empty vessel.

He looked around and found himself surrounded by clean white walls. The lights were onbnoxiously bright and forced him to blink constantly until his vision adjusted. He was wearing clean blue robes that felt like paper, rough and noisy against his skin, unlike the nice robes he usually wore. He felt a brief petulant surge of anger – Daphne had helped him pick out those robes – but he just as quickly dismissed the feeling. Occlumency seemed to be working fine for him in that respect, but who could say how a concussion would affect his abilities.

Right now he couldn't seem to get a bead on the position of the people he knew must be staffing this hospital, or at least, not all of them at once. Sleeping off a concussion. Harry was sure that was supposed to be a fairly terrible medical practice. The books he had read on the brain had suggested that it was possible to slip into a coma. So, this was good news, he supposed; he wasn't in a coma.

A ward went off next to him as he sat up, a simple alert by the feel of it. He must have crossed some sort of trip-wire. Harry stretched his arms out, trying to ignore the pounding in his head before his eyes flashed open and looked at his left arm.

He flexed it and twisted his wrist around. No pain. With magic, broken bones were child's play. He looked around. His wand and mirror were gone with no place they could be in sight. Hopefully they were both with Dumbledore. It was possible they had been broken in the fight.

There was a knock at the door and Harry replied with a perfunctory invitation, finding no trouble with his voice. It was a mediwizard in clean white robes that stepped in, a red caduceus odorning his robes. The man drew his wand and stepped inwards.

"All awake? Good, good. How are we feeling?"

"Not great," Harry returned.

"That's fair," The wizard responded with a chuckle. "You were in bad shape when you came in." He gently raised his wand so as not to come off threatening. "Alright I'm going to shine a light in your eyes." The tip of it glowed in a steady, narrow beam. He pointed it in Harry's eyes to check for dilation. "Looks good. Any ringing in the ears? Confusion?"

"No ringing, but would you mind telling me where I am? What happened?"

"You're in Saint Mungo's. You were brought in by the department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Oh no. The man you dueled, he was a Death Eater named Barty Crouch Jr., it was all quite the snafu."

"Barty Crouch Jr.?" Harry asked. "He's supposed to be dead."

"Well he is now, I'm told it was quite the duel. The obliviators had to run around and play catch up all day, though I suppose it couldn't be helped."

"A girl came with me; Daphne Greengrass. She didn't check in here with me, did she?"

"I'm sorry, I can't talk about other patients with you, so I can't confirm or deny."

Harry nodded along. It made enough sense that he would acquiesce for now. The fact Barty Crouch Jr. had been around was very concerning; as were his modifications. If Voldemort could do that now, what could he do when he had a body? Harry thought he was up to the challenge of fighting most people, but someone who had been purposefully designed to counter him had pushed him right to his limits.

Voldemort could probably do even better than that. Was Barty Crouch just a first model? A prototype? He wouldn't have been able to apparate what with being a walking anti-apparition ward, so he must have been waiting near the Dursley's house for some time. Had Voldemort known Harry would come back? How?

"Where is my wand?" Harry asked the nurse equivalent. "When am I being discharged?"

"Your wand?" The man asked. "You'll get your clothes and personal effects back when you're discharged. Which should be soon. You were concussed when you came in but you're not showing any symptoms. How's your arm?"

"It doesn't hurt. A little tender I suppose." Harry rolled his wrist some more. "Can there be complications with the bone-mending spell?"

"There can be complications with any medical spell, so we like to check." The man spoke while writing something on a note. He folded it and held it up in the air. It whizzed to a nearby pipe that seemed purpose-made for such memos and vanished out of sight. "Alright, is there anything else bothering you?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir."

"Well then, I can't think of any reason to keep you. We'll get your discharge papers ready now." The man walked out and shut the door behind him.

Harry lay back down and closed his eyes. He had known it could be a trap and he had walked right into it. The sheer obviousness of it all, in hindsight, burned him up from the inside.

 _Daphne…_

She could have been hurt, could have been killed by his stupid mistake. That raked at him. He needed to do better. More than that, there was no way of knowing how this would affect the battle over his custodianship or what position he had put Dumbledore in, _again_. Sure, the man was keeping secrets from him, but he still did his best to help Harry.

There was another knock at the door. "Come," Harry called out.

The door swept open and in walked a dark-skinned man with a clean-shaven head. "Mr. Potter, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt with the Auror Department. Do you mind answering a few questions?"

Harry nodded. The man shut the door behind him a girl stepped in, her hair changing colors as she walked. Harry watched her with interest. A metamorphmagus. There was supposed to have been one at Hogwarts his first year, but he hadn't had the chance to observe their abilities up close.

Auror Shacklebolt pulled the only chair in the room over to Harry's bed and took a seat.

The younger woman crossed her arms behind her. She had a heart shaped face right now, and her hair went from long elegant curls to a short and spiky formation as he watched on. "Wotcher, Harry."

Harry eyed her curiously, prompting the auror to explain. "This is Nymphadora Tonks, she's shadowing me today for her auror training, she can stay or leave, at your preference."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

"Now Harry, if I can call you Harry?" Harry nodded. "Yes, we have some questions about what happened to you this last Sunday."

The man's tone was gentle, too gentle. Like he was talking to a child or someone in the hospital who had been attacked. A puzzler, that.

"What were you doing in Little Whinging?"

"I wanted to see the house I grew up in, my last family was killed there." A technical truth.

From Harry's position he saw a necklace dangling at Kingsley's neck. It had a wooden token, a bird. A phoenix, at a guess. It seemed Dumbledore had followers everywhere. Was the Headmaster putting his Order back together? Or did the man wear it all the time? Regardless the man nodded along.

"For your safety we ask that you remain where your guardians can keep an eye on you in the future." Harry nodded. Not unreasonable, given the circumstances.

"Now this man who attacked you, did he say anything?"

"Only that he was a tool of his master and that he implied he had been waiting for me." Harry hesitated. "He only used spells to try and capture me. Things would have gone differently if he was trying to kill me."

"He was trying to kidnap you?" Auror Tonks asked.

Harry nodded. "I strongly suspect so, he could have crushed my throat if he was so inclined and he never cast spells that could have been lethal. He wanted me alive."

"Do you know why he was trying to kidnap you? Where he was going to take you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir."

"That's alright." Harry found the man's saccharine tone distinctly unpleasant, reminding him of patronizing teachers from his youth. "It was an impressive fight, you should be proud."

Harry shrugged. "I brought my friend with me, Daphne Greengrass, she wasn't hurt, was she? Where is she?"

"Just a little shaken," The man informed him. "Ms. Greengrass is already at Beauxbatons. She's quite alright." Harry felt himself relax at the news, he thought she wasn't hurt but the fact was that he hadn't been sure. The risk had been gnawing at him, making his stomach feel bottomless.

But it wasn't like she was safe at Beauxbatons either, not with Malachite in and out of the place as she pleased.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"I don't think so," Harry told the man.

"I think that's everything we need, Trainee Tonks? Can you think of anything else?" A test for her? Or was he genuinely asking?

"You mentioned a master. Do you know who?" The Trainee asked.

"I suspect it was Voldemort?"

"I knew it," she breathed. "It's like Dumbledore-"

"Enough Tonks." The man cut her off.

"You're both members of the Order?" Harry asked. He eyed the girl again, taking her in a new light. She wasn't just a metamorphmagus, she was _Dumbledore's_ metamorphmagus. "What has Dumbledore told you?"

"You know about the Order?" Trainee Tonks asked.

" _Nymphadora Tonks,_ " Auror Shacklebolt inflected harshly. "Sorry, Harry, its Dumbledore's-well, his orders."

Harry stroked his chin as they exited, deep in thought.

Dumbledore wouldn't be idle in the face of Voldemort. Not again. Not after his idleness with Grindelwald, with Tom the first time, and with Harry at the Dursley's. The Headmaster would take action, he'd continue investigating. Harry could leave it to him, but then, Harry wasn't the idle type either.

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Dumbledore was Harry's next visitor. He had been feeling the minds that walked by as, at this distance, with his level of familiarity, it wasn't like he had much else to do. Besides, most were passing blurs of vague emotion, like smudges on a lens, but Harry recognized Dumbledore immediately just from the distant grating against his mind. "Come in," Harry said before the sorcerer could knock.

The wizard stepped inside and took the chair.

"Harry, I must confess my disappointment in you. Will you tell me why you went to your family's home?"

That stung, hard, but Harry nodded, "I wanted to know how they died, that's why I took Daphne. I also wanted her to know what happened to me there. I'm sorry, I never should have gone to the house."

"You had every right to visit the house. Harry, I'm disappointed you didn't share this with me." What? "I strongly doubt that the idea of seeing the house you grew up in came ex nihilo." That was true, Harry had been considering it for a while, but he also had things he wanted to keep from Dumbledore. "Harry, you must know that you can share anything with me?"

Albus Dumbledore reclined slightly steepling his fingers as he did. "Or do you feel as though you can't trust me?"

Harry felt a strong desire to be honest. To ask about horcruxes, to trust the wizard like he used to, but he couldn't. It felt like a weight on his soul. He had trusted Grindelwald by asking and he couldn't bring himself to do the same with Dumbledore. Not after he had pulled _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_.

But that didn't mean he couldn't trust him with other things. Could he trust Dumbledore with asking about the Hallows? Grindelwald had told him about how they pursued them together and finally found the Elder Wand. Could Harry ask about that? He wanted to, he really did.

"I'm…" Harry trailed off, unable to finish, but Dumbledore sat patiently, evidently content to wait. "Sir, I'm terrified. All the time." It was true. Of Malachite. Of losing his friends. Of being alone. Of being like Grindelwald and Voldemort. Of himself too. "There's something cruel in me, sir. Something that wants to hurt people."

"Do you enjoy hurting things, Harry?" Harry supposed he should be surprised the man hadn't asked about the Hallows first, unstoppable marks of death in the world would have attracted Harry's attention more than the fears of a fourteen-year-old. The Professor's tone was even but sympathetic, unlike the too sweet tone of the auror earlier.

" _Yes_ ," Harry breathed, "and no. When I fought Malfoy, or any of the others at Hogwarts I didn't enjoy hurting them. I enjoyed being _better_. But recently… I enjoyed killing the Tarrasque. I enjoy hurting my enemies in duels, ever since Gabrielle Delacour. I didn't _have_ to hurt her, or any of the others, even if they were trying to hurt me. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You say this is recent?" The man calmly asked.

"I think so, but how can I be sure? What if this is me? What if I'm not like you? What if I'm like Tom and Gellert. Is the cruelty a part of me? I enjoy revenge. I enjoy beating the people who stand against me."

"Revenge is a very human emotion, Harry," the man explained, every bit the teacher in that instant. But there was no aged condescension in his words, only a quiet – dare he believe it – understanding. "Our fury and fear are a part of us. But we shan't allow them to rule us, as people. What about the things that bring you joy? Discovery? Research?" Dumbledore stroked his beard. "So, Harry allow me to bed your fears. Tom would never have cared for Ms. Greengrass as you have. He would have attempted to collect her talent, but that is all. You care for her feelings. Even, I suspect, reciprocate some of them, if I may be so bold. You are not like Voldemort in that regard, Harry. Your talents and power make you superficially similar. It's in your feeling and intentions that the differences are all too visible."

Harry curled up slightly and rested his hands on his knees. He felt so small. He wanted to run and hide and curl up in a cupboard.

"Fear can overwhelm us at times, but we can, and must, rise above it. We all require help, at times, there is no shame in that." Dumbledore reached out an arm and gently lay his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You aren't alone, Harry."

Harry felt like crying, and he did, but only a little. He wiped his eyes. Relaxing into the physical contact.

"How do you know? You're as lost as I am," Harry muttered without true accusation. "You've made mistakes too."

"I'm, what was it you told Ms. Granger? 'Personally responsible for no small part of all the horrible events of the last century.' Indeed, I am. And when Gellert raised his army I was alone. I couldn't bring myself to face him, I was, I confess, too afraid. But Harry, we must face our fears before they face us. That is the only way to live. The very act of being alive."

"The man, Barty Crouch Jr., he was designed to take me. Nothing I did could stop him." The man actually reminded Harry of some of the Headmaster's instruments. Silvery, enchanted, and built with terrific purpose.

"Yes, it seems that, of late, Azkaban is struggling to hold her prisoners." Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort is out there, as is the Lady Malachite, but you are able rise above them both, if only you let yourself."

"I'm sorry." Harry looked at him. "I'm sorry." He meant it.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise. Harry thought tears were welling in the man's eyes. He himself was barely keeping it together. It was hard facing the truth.

"Yes." His Grandfather figure nodded. "But we must live with our mistakes. I'm afraid I won't remain your custodian for long. This last incident will, I regret, prove too much for me, but we shall survive, I think. Sirius Black is the only other contender. We shall manage. Your recent feelings are, I suspect, a result of Voldemort growing in strength. You are connected and, as he grows stronger, more of him will influence you. But I believe, as I always have, that you can resist him."

Harry nodded along. "How is he getting stronger?"

"I suspect more of his followers being free has improved his health to a degree, in which case he should now be weaker without Barty Crouch Jr. among his ranks."

Harry could accept that. With followers there was the chance of him doing rituals and affecting the world in ways that using unwilling wizards or muggles couldn't.

But there was one more thing.

"Sir, about the Hallows…"

"Oh, you know about them, do you? Yes Gellert and I sought them, even found one. I had hoped to pass the one I claimed on to you one day. I never had children as you know full well, but I can't help but think of my pride in you as being similar."

Harry found himself swallowing again. The feeling felt thick and heavy in his chest. It reminded him of how he felt when he thought of Luna Lovegood or Tanyushka Malachite.

"Difficult times are ahead, Harry. Especially for you, and I must ask more of you. Ask you to play the game, as it were. Our enemies have made the first move, now we must reciprocate."

"You're gathering your Order." Harry stated.

Dumbledore nodded, "Voldemort gathers his strength, we must gather our own to oppose him. But for now, Harry, rest. There will be enough weight set on your shoulders soon enough."

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Harry checked out of the Hospital, changing into clothes that Dumbledore had brought for him from his trunk at school – and didn't that make him feel heavy. He collected his wand and mirror and was happy to see they weren't damaged.

He would have had to remake the entire set of mirrors if his own broke; they were all tied through his mirror and _then_ to each other. He should probably fix that anyway so that new ones could be added to the network easily.

His whole body was stiff with lack of use, but sitting in bed for two days will do that. Hopefully he would stretch out after a bit of practice with his dueling.

There was a crowd waiting for Harry as he walked out, reporters holding quills and paper, desperately trying to get the first word on the greatest story or the first official interview with the Boy-Who-Lived and future master of the arcane.

"Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter who attacked you?" A man pushing his way to the front of the throng asked.

Harry paused, could he work this to his advantage? Dumbledore had told him to play the game, after all. He shook his head, there was little he could do without Daphne here. He didn't know anything. He didn't have a stance on the statute of secrecy or who-knew-what other rallying points.

He marched to the designated apparition areas, ignoring the entire world and disapparated with a crack to make his way to Beauxbatons. It was late by the time he arrived and the first thing he did was seek out Daphne. He could feel her in the library and immediately made a beeline there. Inside, on the first floor, he could see her pacing back and forth. She was wringing her hands incessantly.

When he stepped inside, her face lit up like somebody had incanted 'lumos'. He barely had time to close the door behind him before she took three long steps and embraced him. He held her around the waist close to him, squeezing tight and breathing in the smell of honey and cream.

"Hey," he said dumbly.

"Hi," she whispered back. She drew back, taking his hands in both of hers.

"Do you have my cloak?" He asked. It was the first thing he thought of. It had been kind of bothering him since he had checked out and it wasn't with his things.

She hit his chest with her hand and looked away. There were tears in her eyes. "That's the first thing to you say to me? Unbelievable." She sighed. "That's so you." It made him smile.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said more quietly.

"Too late. You ruined it." She sat down with a huff. "I'm glad you're safe."

The image of him bouncing off the pavement looped over and over in her head. He wanted to say it hadn't been so bad but there he was hitting the pavement and making that sickening crunch.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. "I don't regret you knowing, but I knew it could have been a trap. I was arrogant and selfish. I wanted to know how they died and how to handle my enemies, but I didn't warn you about everything. I put both your mind and life at risk."

She leaned her forehead against his chest from her sitting position. Closing her eyes. Her mind reeled against his and he gently soothed her.

"Your cloak is in your trunk. You jerk." Harry reached out and held her head in her hands. "I'm just so tired of it. Maybe I should almost die. See how you like it." She muttered. "I'm so useless."

He could tell she really thought that she was useless, it bit at him. He held her head against him. Relishing the feeling. "You're not useless. You know laws and politics."

She looked up him.

[ _Really? That's all?_ ]

"No- I meant you have things I don't. You can do things I just can't. I need you."

The front of his shirt felt wet. "You can't keep doing this to me."

 _I will keep you safe_.

He pushed the thought into her mind, promising it wasn't what she wanted to hear but he needed to say it.

"Then teach me. I need to know how to fight. Do you have any idea how I felt? It was awful, and I just couldn't do anything about it."

[ _I'm so impotent._ ]

"You know I will. It'll help keep you safe."

 _You saved me._

"I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill you."

"I think he was under orders to take me alive. But he couldn't leave any witnesses, you were in more danger than I was."

"Ugh." She put her face back into his shirt. She gripped his clothes tight in her hands and Harry held her face while she cried. "You can't let me have anything."

 _I'll give you anything I can._

[ _Harry…?_ ]

"It's okay. We'll be okay. Malachite, Voldemort, your father. We can handle all of it. We can do it together. We're a good team."

[ _Harry, I don't want you to leave me._ ]

"I don't want you to leave me either. You're my best friend."

"I worry about you so much."

 _I know._

"Thank you." He meant it.

Harry crouched down meeting her eyes. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

She nodded. Her cute face scrunched up from crying. "You know I will."

"I have enemies. They'll be yours too," Harry told her and, though it was a warning, it wasn't a refusal. "I need to gain followers and figure out how to get to deal with the tournament. We'll need to fight off Voldemort and Malachite and figure out what happened to your father."

[ _That's a lot._ ]

It was. Odds were that one of those things would eventually best him.

"But I want to do it all with you."

She nodded, unable to speak.

[ _I'll always help you, Harry_.]

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"' _I hate', from hate away she threw,  
And saved my life, saying 'not you.'_" - Shakespeare Sonnets

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 **-WG**


	23. Collecting II

**Beta:** Digitize27

You can ask me questions at my forum, link in profile.

This is one of my best chapters. I think shortening the length and increasing the update frequency works for me so expect more soon.

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" _Commander Vimes didn't like the phrase 'The innocent have nothing to fear,' believing the innocent had everything to fear, mostly from the guilty but in the longer term even more from those who say things like 'The innocent have nothing to fear.'_ "' – Snuff, Terry Pratchett

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Harry held her until she stopped crying. At curfew they departed to their respective rooms, and the next morning she was up and ready to tackle things right away.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked him as they walked up to get breakfast.

"I… don't really have one?"

"But, you _always_ have a plan."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "No, I'm always reacting to things, and my last plan almost got me killed."

"That's not funny."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I wasn't joking."

"And _it_ wasn't funny." She meant it. She didn't find the possibility of his death as mildly amusing as he did.

"Sorry."

"Enough apologizing too."

"Right." He nodded along.

"So, what do we do first?"

"I'm not sure." Harry paused. "We need to get ready. Voldemort is out there, and assuming he won't come after me is foolish. I need to deal with the tournament, but even if I do it won't solve our Malachite problem. She'll still want me dead. Revenge is a powerful motivator."

They crossed the threshold into the breakfast hall and she sat opposite him.

"I want to make something like Dumbledore's order; something I can do to oppose Voldemort. My enemies are powerful because they aren't alone."

"So _we_ shouldn't be either," Daphne nodded, emphasizing the word we. She paused considering, worrying a fork against her lips. "That's why you're helping people."

"To a point," Harry corrected. "I've always helped anyone who asks."

"True." Daphne piled food onto her plate. "You really should eat more."

Harry gave a non-committal shrug and grabbed an apple.

"But we can't just wait for people to ask for help, we need to do more."

Harry nodded along, deferring to her expertise. She would know better than he did when it came to matters of people.

Daphne received her morning paper and unrolled it, beginning to read. Harry watched her. He wasn't sure what he would do without her. In that moment he once again re-affirmed that he had made the right decision.

"You could do an interview," Daphne mused.

"I thought I didn't do interviews."

She rolled her eyes. "Well not with Rita Skeeter, obviously. Someone else. People already want to listen to you."

"They will once Voldemort starts killing them."

She gave him a flat look. "We should try and avoid that."

"You think Voldemort isn't dead?" Susan sat down at the table, swiftly followed by their year-mates.

Harry and Daphne exchanged looks, communicating without _actually_ communicating. "I know he isn't." Harry said at length.

"My Auntie said whatever happened Sunday spooked Dumbledore," Susan pressed. "Spooked him enough to start putting his Order together."

"Order?" Su Li queried, flicking nervous eyes over the group. "What Order?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," Harry answered with surprising candor. "They follow Dumbledore and fought Grindelwald and Voldemort."

"They were Dumbledore's army," Ernie summed up, rather skeptically. "I don't see what a headmaster needs with a private army."

"It's not like that," Daphne corrected, quick to dissuade of that notion and turning all heads to her. "Dumbledore gathered people opposed to the Dark Lords and gave them a united purpose."

"But is it necessary?" Michael asked, voicing the million-sickle question; the _wise_ question. There was a glint in his eye, Harry felt something sharp from him. It was like a familiar hunger pain. Michael had always been at the edge of Harry's friends, but there was no reason things had to stay that way.

[ _Knowledge isn't free._ ]

"A Death Eater who was supposed to be dead set a trap for me," Harry told him honestly. Honesty was getting him far recently. "And Dumbledore moved Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel here to protect the stone. The break in to their place was probably him, and he also tried to get his hands on it when we were first years, he broke into Hogwarts."

"You were talking about that when the article came out. I remember that," Michael recalled. "You've been fighting him all this time."

"Only his wraith. He's barely a ghost of his former self."

"What does that mean then?" Michael asked. "What are you planning?"

"Well, _he's_ planning on making himself a new body. Planning to return to his former strength." Harry thumbed his jaw. "Dumbledore is gearing up to stop him. Prevent him from getting the chance. So, I suppose I'm trying to help Dumbledore."

"What does You-Know-Who have?" Michael pressed.

Harry considered how to answer. Michael wanted to know, which was smart in its own way but dangerous in many others.

Michael looked up to Harry. He had seen what Harry could do from the periphery of Harry's friends, seen him take on the Tarasque, and now he knew Harry had taken on a Death Eater too. He wanted to draw on Harry's success. Harry considered Michael.

"You're scaring them," Daphne whispered gently to his side. Harry looked behind Michael at his other peers. If they could be called that. Daphne saw a use for them that Harry didn't, and maybe what would work for Michael wouldn't work for the others.

Harry looked over at Daphne.

 _Split them up._

She gave a tiny nod of assent.

"Come sit with me in potions, Michael. I'll tell you what you want to know."

Harry stood up. It was time to get to potions.

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Potions was taught by Professor Petit. She was a round woman with a pair of thick elliptical glasses which barely clung to the edge of her nose, she wasn't hard on rules, instead she allowed students to pass or fail as they pleased, provided they could put in the effort.

" _Put away your cauldrons. Today we'll be designing a glamor potion,"_ she began at the board. _"You'll brew your design in our next class. Now, we need seven elements to this potion at a minimum. Who knows why?"_

Delacour's friend Mary raised her hand. _"Seven is the most magically important number."_

" _True but not quite what I was looking for. Seven is indeed the most arithmantic important number, but why do we need seven ingredients in this particular case?"_

Harry raised his hand. _"Because you actually only need six. One to fool each of the five senses, then one for the mind, and one to catalyze the reaction, though if you use sufficiently powerful ingredients you won't need the last one."_

" _Have you studied potion design, Mr. Potter?"_ The Professor asked, impressed.

Harry nodded. _"Only briefly. I've never actually designed one before."_ Harry looked at Michael who had sat next to him. Daphne had quickly partnered up with Susan and wasn't looking his way, but Harry could see her lips moving and feel through the air their conversation. Daphne didn't need his help, he trusted her to know what as in his best interest.

Michael's mother designed potions didn't she?

" _Mr. Potter is correct. You'll all pick seven ingredients as Mr. Potter described. Then we'll decide how to mix them in order to bring out the effects. Open your books to the index on ingredients and choose carefully. I'll be checking over your lists, but some ingredients have rather volatile reactions. You'll need to be familiar with the ones you pick."_

That sounded easy enough to Harry. He opened his copy of the Potions textbook, going down the list of possible ingredients and marking the ones he thought would work.

"Harry?" Michael tried to get his attention.

"What do you want to know?" Harry whispered back.

"How are you getting ready to stop him?"

"I'm practicing magic," Harry answered easily, and truthfully. "As fast as I can."

"You've been preparing for him all this time?"

Harry considered that. It was true in its own way. His own pursuit of power had been driven by his fear. His fear of the Dementors, his fear of Voldemort. Ever since he had invaded Harry's mind back in first year, the ghost of Tom Riddle had been enough to terrify Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered at last, turning back to the task at hand. It wouldn't do for the unexpected Hogwarts champion to need to be reprimanded for missing classes and ignoring schoolwork. Dumbledore would have enough on his plate without any more of Harry and his brattish attitude.

Harry turned the page and marked a dozen ingredients. Once he had enough he began looking at the specifics. Which parts synergized well with each other. Seeds tended not to go well with fruits as a general rule, but fruits would go with leaves and seeds would go with tubers and roots.

It was a matter of association. The end of a plant didn't go well with the beginning. Of course, that was just a general rule. Some fruits went well with the seeds still inside, so there were exceptions, just like every rule of magic, but it helped him narrow his selection down to a short list of ingredients.

From there he just needed to choose one that would catalyze the whole thing. They were likely going to be using part of a gryphon, maybe a feather each. Just enough to make a glamor work, they weren't trying to make a strong love potion, just hide something.

He made sure his ingredients wouldn't explode on contact with each other and then began to go over a methodology. Milk would be fine as a base, perhaps mixing it with water to make it cloudy would help him with the idea of obscuring something. The milk would have to be of a magical creature. That would do for sight.

The Gryphon feather would have to go last.

Lavender, a magical strain, of course, for smell. Moon sugar for taste. Egg of a songbird would be strongly associated with hearing and would go well with the gryphon feather. The shell of the egg might have done if for touch, but the hard shell wouldn't go well with the rest of the mixture.

Technically speaking the feather also might have done it for touch but Harry wasn't the sort to leave things to chance. He marked down strands of flobberworm silk; whole, smooth pieces.

"Harry what have you got for the mind?" Michael whispered, the class silent as groups worked quietly over their textbooks.

The mind was something special wasn't it? Appearing here even in a Potions classroom.

Ashes of a love letter was an ingredient in amortentia, in fact it was the potion's defining ingredient. A love potion that used that ingredient was classified as an amortentia.

The more personal to the user and the receiver the better, extremely strong ones called for love letters from the one from the target to the receiver. It was easy to see why. A love letter from a young witch sacrificed to the potion rather than given to the target would add a greater effect to the potion.

A more general love poem would do the trick, but it would be far less personal. The sympathetic connection would be weaker, so it's ability to inflicting the proper emotions would be dampened.

The potion Harry was designing didn't need to be personal either. In fact, it was better if it wasn't. It was better to be bland. It was hard to think about. Makeup may have worked but that was _sight_ , not mind. Here was where the potion viewer incorporated _intent_ into the potion. It was a lot like casting a spell in that regard. Adding power and ingredients for focusing the where and how of the spell.

So, what would focus the spell on the mind and affect the mind into not noticing something? What could Harry sacrifice like a young witch would for amortentia?

Studying love potions wasn't enough for him to reach the answer, so he looked at another potion he had studied, Wolfsbane.

Part of why Wolfsbane was a difficult potion to brew was because it affected the mind so deeply. A potion to heal wounds would be made using salves of medicinal plants, affecting the mind distantly, but one to affect the mind of both the wolf and man and make them one was much harder.

First of all, a potion like that needed a lot of power. Which was why wolfsbane was packed in ice during long parts of its process. A lot of power only needed a slight catalyst to go off, which was why many potions had the potential to go catastrophically wrong when mis-brewed.

The potion Harry was designing didn't need as much power as wolfsbane. It just needed to look at something and move on. A slight amount of power to just notice but notice and move on without recollecting. To be something subtle this potion _needed_ something subtle.

Harry had added soap to the list of potential ingredients. Just a little bit of soap, beneath notice but there. If ashes of a love letter worked for a love potion then perhaps burned _blank_ parchment would do just as well.

Harry had already seen burned ashes of a book in Snape's shelves. Harry was sure that had many uses. Both being of a book and generally just _some_ book rather than being a particular book. It touches on the metaphor of a 'general' book and makes it real. Harry knew that a potion for improving memory had this ingredient.

Of those only the soap worked with the rest of the potion. Harry could sort of see why. That he had added animal to the potion worked with the tallow in a related and connected way. It would optimize the potion by being _similar_ to the ingredients already in it.

Harry smirked, no wonder potions were complicated. A potions recipe was a little ritual using a cauldron, and the mind arts showed up _everywhere._ It seemed that mastering one field of magic would always help in mastering others.

That made Harry think of his predecessors; his magical role models.

The man had said he was created from rituals and Harry was sure that Tom Riddle would have been good at potions. It was hard to keep quiet. No one had any idea how much danger they were all in. Voldemort was creative and had bodies to _spend_. A wizard who cared as much as Voldemort could buy a lot with that if he was willing to sell death in rituals.

Paying for power with the act of murder seemed not only possible to Harry, but relatively easy. A clear and simple sacrifice that was both powerful and vague. That would allow for easy direction of the ritual while also retaining the inherent value.

Items like Harry's cloak may have been made in such a fashion. Perhaps that's why they had been called aspects of Death.

Harry didn't want to know what Voldemort had bought using death.

"Just a little soap." Harry finally answered. "Tell me, what do you know about mind magic?"

"Mind magic?" Michael asked. "Why? What do you mean?"

"Well you need something for the mind, for this potion don't you?"

"That's mind magic? Well, there's ah, obliviation, right?"

Harry nodded. "Amongst other aspects. There are ways to use magic to augment the mind."

"Like a memory improvement potion?" Michael wondered.

Harry nodded. "Those exist, but there are things more permanent than a potion. The sort of thing that lasts forever." Harry knew what would tempt Michael into Harry's debt.

"Do you know how to do that?" Michael wondered. "Is it something you can learn?"

Harry nodded. "It's called augeomancy, a branch of occlumency. I'll loan you a book on it if you want." Harry reached out and pulled a line, in Michael's brain, causing waves of thoughts. Harry wrapped the cord around a mental finger and pulled. Like a marionette Michael's mouth opened, his gears of though switched slightly.

"What else can you do with mind magic?' Michael pressed. "Could you-"

"Read minds?" Harry interrupted. "Not as such. The mind works in layers. You can learn to affect one branch and use magic to see the conclusion. The Dark Lord was known to break into the minds of his enemies."

"Which Dark Lord? Grindelwald or -"

"Both."

Michael stewed on that. Harry sprinkled in some inspiration.

"Can you learn how to stop that? Is there some form of defense?"

"I can teach you, between my own classwork and practice with magic." Harry offered. "But it won't be easy. It will be the most uncomfortable experience of your life. You'll have no secrets from me."

Michael looked nervous, but his temptation and hunger won him over. Harry could certainly relate to that. "You have a book on the subject, you said?"

Harry smiled and nodded, packing up his things to leave early. He turned in his proposed potion ingredients and, without another word, left.

Perhaps interacting with Michael's mind affected Harry, but he really needed to master as much magic as he could before eventually Voldemort succeeded and returned to power.

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" _A plague of nightmares I invoke, to raise up from the ash and smoke. Spider's web and eye of newt, viper's venom and mandrake root._ " - Nox Arcana Conjuration

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 **-WG**


	24. Collecting III

**Beta:** Digitize27

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The Familiar-bonding ritual was arguably the simplest of rituals. It required merely wand movements and a proper incantation, but it formed a permanent bond between a wizard and an animal. Especially animals bred for the task. Hedwig was such an animal and, like many witches and wizards before him, he had been quick to perform the ritual even if it wasn't strictly called as such by the ministry.

Of course, he hadn't thought through the implications at the time. He'd been young and excited when he'd pointed his wand between them both, enunciating the words perfectly, and since then his mood had been linked to Hedwig's, and hers to him.

"Be patient," he told the bird, to which she simply rustled her tail feathers. The words were for as much his own benefits as Hedwig's. He wanted to get to work, his fingers itching for something to do.

So, he could feel her annoyance as she watched him sift through a literal pile of mail. Some of it was fan-mail or quick thank you notes for defeating the Dark Lord at the tender age of one. Others, and this was what Daphne was interested in, were invitations.

"This is part of playing the game," Daphne reminded him from where she sat on his bed while he sat on the floor. "You need to make appearances, and in all honesty, you should probably do some sort of interview."

Noticing Harry's expression, she soldiered on. "How about something academic? Look at this, you were invited to Germany to a conference on Arithmancy. Someone must have seen those temperature spells you designed."

Harry nodded his head and hummed in response. It was to be expected. Dumbledore too had been invited to such things, though, even he had been older then than Harry was now.

He looked back at Hedwig. He could feel the subtle magical bond between them, stronger for the lack of distance between them now.

Had he left his mind vulnerable?

It was an alarming thought. Especially if what Dumbledore suspected about the strengthening connection between himself and Tom was true. What other potential gaps had he left open?

He was certain. The connection could be reversed. While nowhere near as strong as a true legilimency link, an empathic one could be established using the familiar. In fact, it didn't need to be mind magic at all. With someone's familiar you could do all kinds of nasty things to them. A ritual using the familiar-

"-Harry?"

He shook his fears away and looked back at his… Daphne. Whatever she was to him. The word 'girlfriend' lacked something that their partnership had. "What did you say? I was lost in thought."

"I asked if you wanted to go to this conference."

"Do you think I should?"

Daphne hesitated. She seemed to struggle with telling him what to do. He didn't mind if she did, at least not in this or by her.

But he could hear her thoughts, even absently. The connection between their minds was even greater than the one between him and Hedwig, though it had different origins. It was a behavior they had learned as they grew. Both his and her minds grew intertwined as they developed and matured.

"I'll write back, tell them I'll go," he answered his own question. "How about this one." He passed the letter to her.

Dumbledore usually handled Harry's mail by some means, mostly to prevent cursed objects from making it through to him. At Daphne's behest however, Harry had requested that the mail be passed on to him, provided that he made sure to check all of it thoroughly.

Dumbledore had been worried at first, but after watching Harry sort through the mail for a while must have concluded that Harry was sufficiently paranoid and returned to managing magical Europe from behind the scenes. There were those who fear Dumbledore's influence, and they were wise to do so.

In truth, Harry was likely more paranoid than was strictly necessary, but after Barty Crouch Jr. he was taking no chances, especially where Daphne was concerned. He would probably need to spend the time or money making some dark-detectors to automatically sort his mail, though that was a project for later.

He had been wary. Wary enough that he had begun construction of a new mirror system to keep him connected to his friends and _allies_. He still wasn't sure where to draw the line between those two groups just yet, in part because nothing had happened through which he could test their loyalty. He did have the advantage that he could just read Susan and Michael's minds, but the fact of the matter was that anyone could _think_ they were loyal but they could still be _wrong_.

Only time, or a true crucible could test that.

"I've already checked these for curses if you want to go through them." Harry indicated a pile. "We'll sort them into groups depending on whether we will respond, then by _how_ we will respond."

"I didn't realize I was going to be your secretary," Daphne grumbled, but nonetheless began looking through the sizable stack.

"I'll bet one of Dumbledore's tools sorts the mail automatically," Harry wondered aloud for Daphne's benefit.

"His tools?"

"The things he's invented. His office at school is full of all kinds of devices. The enchanted kind."

"Should we make one ourselves?"

"I'll bet you certainly could. It would probably be fairly easy if we did it together."

"I'll work on it alone then. Despite my power, I'm not as good with runes as you are," Daphne admitted, somewhat begrudgingly. "If I want to be as good as Dumbledore, I'll need to master both."

Harry liked that about her. She wanted to be challenged and to challenge him. Even if only in one area.

"Do you plan on being around here for Christmas?" She asked.

"Well, I was going to ask you to the Yule Ball."

"When?"

Harry frowned. "Didn't I ask you just now."

Daphne sighed before shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Her hair waved in time with her head. Not quite the snow-white blonde of either of the veela Harry had met, but still a pale shade. "Is that really how you ask a girl to a dance?"

 _Yes?_

"No?" The half-hearted glare she was giving him implied as much, even without reading her. A small upturn of her lips turned into a smirked as she gave a firm nod. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Of course I will, Harry. All you needed to do was ask." She gave him her brilliant smile. "So, what's next?"

"I need to talk to Neville again; and the others. They need to be ready."

"You want to give them the new mirrors, too," Daphne correctly interpreted.

Harry nodded along with the words. "And I need to talk to Neville about Barty Crouch Jr. as well as start teaching everyone the basics of Occlumency." Harry felt a familiar but muted flash of jealousy from Daphne. She wanted to keep that moment between them unique. "Not like that, just lessons. You don't need to worry."

"Like you offered Michael?"

Harry nodded. He'd told her how he began to entrench Michael into his own inner circle. Leaving out some of the minor details like how he encouraged the reaction he wanted using legilimency. Daphne would probably understand, but it wasn't really that important.

What was important was getting into Nurmengard, and for that he needed to tell her about Grindelwald at some point. There was also the inevitable conversation about Voldemort, and his soul, and-

Well, there was a lot. It wasn't like he didn't trust her, he did. More than anyone else, but…

It was hard to share problems like that.

Plus…

"I'm worried about our mind-magic connection." Harry broke the silence. "I'm especially worried about the effect I'm having on your mind. Additionally, Dumbledore seems to think that as _You-Know-Who_ grows stronger the connection between him and I will grow as well. My presence in your mind is causing problems, potentially leaving your mind vulnerable."

She didn't want to hear that. She didn't like it. Harry could feel a rush of anxiety from her.

"It's nothing you did and it's not permanent," he promised, meeting her eyes. "I'm just worried about you. We need to redouble your Occlumency training and dueling."

"Harry I'm safe here. I can-"

 _No you're not._

Harry made the words reverberate in her head. Louds enough to shake her thoughts. She almost collapsed from the pressure he put her under. He removed himself and watched as her breathing slowly became less labored. She gave him a weak glare that didn't have any real heat in it.

"You didn't need to do that."

"I could have made it much worse. Easily."

"Still though." She crossed her arms. He reached back out gently with his mind and after a moment she put up her defenses.

"What if Y _ou-Know-Who_ did that. Or someone else. The Death Eater Rookwood was a powerful legilimens too. Malachite is here with her hitman and she has a vendetta. She already threatened you once." Of course, Harry knew her mental buttons better than some random legilimens, no matter how powerful, but the point remained. She was vulnerable, and in a way, she was his weak point.

Harry briefly wondered if Voldemort had ever had something like he had with Daphne. He doubted it. Tom had little interest in those around him. Dumbledore believed that was a weakness, however, there was a certain strength in independence. More than that, though, there was also something to be said of partnerships too.

"She wasn't threatening me." Daphne was shaking her head. Filled with a certain kind of certainty. "I think she pities me or maybe she's..."

Harry frowned as Daphne trailed off. "What do you mean."

"She was warning me to stay away from you. That it's dangerous."

Harry nodded. That wasn't _inaccurate_ , but Harry would much rather Malachite buggered off and stayed away from Daphne, thank you very much.

Daphne reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'll be alright. You won't let anything happen to me."

"I want you to start carrying my Father's cloak with you," Harry insisted. "Just to be safe." He wouldn't have it himself like Dumbledore wanted but…

"Fine." Daphne agreed easily. "If it will get you to stop worrying, I'll keep it with me."

Harry gave a firm nod.

Daphne turned back to her pile. She didn't bother to open them at first. Instead she sorted them with a simple touch, feeling the contents with her power to get information that just couldn't be gleaned from just reading them.

Daphne's was an amazing ability, really. Her mental barriers had grown enough that she could control how much she saw and not be overwhelmed. It was still slow, but it was careful and a lot less risky.

Harry turned back to his own work, sorting through the last of the mail before beginning to pen his responces.

"Harry this one is a court summons from the DMLE. It's from Amelia Bones' office." Daphne finally opened it and began to read. "It's about your custodianship, you need to appear in early December."

Harry frowned. "What should I do?"

"I suppose a judge will review your case and then decide who gets custodianship of you? Do you know who the options are?"

"Well there's Dumbledore for one, then my godfather, Sirius."

Daphne nodded along, she had probably already figured as much. "Do you know anyone else who might put their name in for it?"

Harry shook his head. "You would know better than me."

Daphne let out a low considering hum. "If only we were more closely related, we could put our name in." She made a face. "Ugh, forget I said _that_."

Harry nodded his agreement. Seventh or eighth cousins was enough, thanks.

They were quiet for a while as they worked in companionable silence until Harry finally broke it.

"I want to hold a meeting."

Daphne paused in her work. "A meeting?"

"For all the people who will oppose Voldemort and our friends back in Scotland." He pressed on. "Voldemort has spent the last decade cheating death and I'm not sure we can stop him from getting a body back. He won't keep making mistakes. Eventually he'll win through sheer attrition."

"Is there a way to beat him?"

"I don't know how he's keeping himself alive. Some guesswork maybe, but little more. I'm not sure that Dumbledore knows much more about it than I do. Since we don't know how he's doing it, it makes him difficult to stop." Almost impossible, really.

"And you want this meeting to…?"

"Warn them, make allies, gather our resources." Harry shrugged. "We need organization."

"You're talking about imitating Dumbledore's Order."

 _Or Voldemort's Death Eaters_ , Harry thought but didn't say.

"Yes I am."

"I think I know how we can get started with that."

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"Focus," Harry encouraged. "Your wand movements need to be faster."

Susan trembled, gripping her wand with both shaking hands as Harry barraged her shield with spells. A network of spider-web cracks ran along the barrier after a short volley of bludgeoning charms. The spell broke and not a moment later Susan collapsed, breathing hard.

She lay back on the grass panting and Harry let her have the rest. She worked hard enough that she deserved it.

"What am I doing wrong?" Frustration leaked into her tone.

"Nothing," Harry answered easily. "You're doing fine. Stopping me isn't the focus of these drills. Your opponents in the dueling pits won't shatter your shield like I can."

"What about opponents outside the dueling pits?" Susan grumbled.

Harry considered her. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"My Auntie and I aren't stupid," she replied coldly. "You and Dumbledore are both up to something."

"Your Aunt asked you to keep an eye on me, then," Harry analyzed. Susan winced minutely and he noticed. "It's fine. Were these training sessions her idea or-"

"They were mine. I still need to get stronger, too. It wasn't like-" she began to try to defend herself, but Harry just waved his hand dismissively.

"You can have more than one motive for doing something." Harry paced and thumbed his jawline. "Wise of her. If you have a question for me, then ask it..." Harry trailed off, his tone wasn't unkind.

"Why is Dumbledore getting his Order together? Auntie Amelia says he's not the type to jump at shadows."

"He isn't," Harry agreed. "Dumbledore and I both suspect Voldemort will try and return to power."

"He's alive, then? _You-Know-Who_?" Susan remained propped up on her elbows on the ground beneath where he paced. "I have the right to know. He killed my parents too."

"You have the _right_ to know nothing." Harry snapped back harshly. Almost spitting out the words. Susan flinched below him. He ran his fingers across her mind and went back to pacing. "I don't know if he's alive," Harry murmured honestly. "He certainly isn't _dead_. Not vanquished, at any-rate." He cast a glance over at Daphne on the far side of the field, but she was wrapped up in her studies.

"My Aunt will want to know about that," Susan breathed. "I need to write a letter. What else can you tell me? Anything?" Susan wasn't afraid. Harry would have to give her that. The thought of Voldemort returning to his former strength wasn't a pleasant one. Harry and his peers grew up in a country mired in the shadowy aftermath that Voldemort's presence had cast.

Harry hesitated. There was a great deal that he could tell her, but that would only lead to questions that he didn't yet have answers for. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore kept the knowledge of Horcruxes from him. Besides, Daphne saw something useful in Susan and she was obviously talented enough to make it to Beaux batons. He didn't want to overestimate her usefulness, though. He hummed softly.

"Please," Susan begged. "Death-Eater's killed my family. I need to know about this and I need your help. What if they come back and I'm not strong enough? The dueling pits is one thing, but _you_ beat a Death Eater, at our age. You _killed_ him."

"Your Aunt told you about what Barty Crouch Jr. became in the end."

She nodded. Her Aunt probably wasn't supposed to tell her about the goings on at the DMLE but all families exchanged secrets. Whether in confidence or just at the dinner table after work.

Besides, it had probably been an interesting day for the Aurors. He could imagine it now. From 'What? The Boy-Who-Lived returned to his old childhood house and broke the laws against the use of underage magic?', to 'What? He's not stopping? Even around Muggles?', and even, 'What? He killed a thought to be dead, Death-Eater cum cyborg?'

He smirked at the thought and returned to Susan.

Power and information. She wanted it from him. Needed it from him. "Daphne?" Harry called softly. Daphne heard him and set her books aside to get up and walk over to him. "I think she wants in."

"Wants in to what?" Susan wondered.

"We want to do something about Voldemort," Daphne explained slowly, giving Harry a questioning glance. "Something to do our part."

Susan nodded along. "And you want me?"

"We want to share information. It only makes sense in the face of _You-Know-Who_."

Susan licked her lips nervously. Her eyes glanced between them. "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing too different from our previous arrangement, though it will be more… ongoing. I'll ask you for information and you ask us. Plus, we'll help you with your dueling."

"Sounds like a sweet deal," Susan sounded like she was ready for the other shoe to drop.

"We don't want you to tell anyone. It needs to be kept secret. We'll give you a way to talk to us."

"You want me to spy on my Auntie." She looked up at Harry and Daphne. "Right?"

"A little. If it makes you feel better we'll also be spying on Dumbledore's Order."

Susan frowned. "Is that all?"

"Pretty much," he affirmed with a shrug. Reaching out with mental fingers. Memories like a dust devil swirled into the forefront. A twist here and there...

"Do we have a deal?" Daphne pressed.

With determined eyes Susan stood up and shook Daphne's hand.

She then stood there awkwardly before Harry raised his wand. "Now are we ready to continue?"

Susan nodded and raised her wand.

Harry struck first, summoning a series of icicles before banishing them at her. Only a few. If he so wished he could have covered her in ice like he had the Tarasque. But Harry had been trained by the greatest two wizards of the first half of the century. Judging her or anyone else based on what he could do wouldn't be fair.

She summoned a wave of fire as fiercely colored as her hair. It sublimated the ice entirely. Susan wasn't weak. She would likely be a great witch if her own skills and those of her Aunt were any indication. Mediocre witches did not become the head of the DMLE, and it seems the Bones' didn't produce mediocre witches.

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 **-WG**


	25. Collecting IV

**Beta:** Digitize27

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Daphne watched Susan duel, admiring how far she had risen. She felt a little tug of envy watching Susan's spells shake the shield of the Beauxbatons student. Her own spellfire was weak in comparison to Susan's. It had always been weaker than Harry's, but Harry's power was tremendous, even if he himself was so casual with his abilities.

Harry had slain the Tarasque with that brilliant display. Only a foolish student would dare challenge him. Plus, it was now an open secret that he had killed a Death Eater. No one questioned the Goblet's choice anymore.

Most assumed he somehow fooled Dumbledore's age line, there was so little doubt over his power.

So, Daphne swallowed her mixed feelings over Susan's success. Harry didn't hold Daphne close for her raw power, anyway. No, he kept her around because of her mind. Besides, her talents were subtle, not non-existent.

Su Li joined Daphne to watch Susan deflect the poor boy's spells around the arena, her aim needed work, but no one in their year besides Harry could pull off such casual deflection.

"I heard that Harry asked you to the dance," Su began bluntly.

"He did, yes." Daphne gave the girl a questioning look, but her smirk only grew. Harry was everything young witches looked for, at least in her humble opinion. "How'd you know?"

"The Veela asked him to go with her this morning." Daphne frowned. The Veela, _Gabrielle_ , should really keep her eyes to herself. "He said no and that he was already going with you."

"Well it's true. He asked me a few nights ago," Daphne chatted back. "I've not seen him today though."

Harry wasn't at the dueling pits now, he was in the fourth-year boys' cabin, magically expanding the otherwise cramped space and getting ready for the ritual they planned to perform there later.

"I heard she wants to duel you, too," Su continued.

"Well I'm not interested in her games," Daphne responded.

Su nodded along, accepting the obvious dismissal. "Look at Susan _go_. She's really improved recently."

"Of course," Daphne responded. "She asked Harry for help. That's all it takes, of course."

"It's hard to argue with the results," Su agreed. "Neville used to be one of the worst in our year, now his spells are second strongest, if not the most refined."

"Looking at Neville, Su?" Daphne teased. The girl's cheeks reddened before she stammered a quick denial.

"N-no it's not that. It's Harry. I mean Susan was better than me before, but she just beat her third opponent."

"Susan was always good," Daphne murmured. "Though Harry has that effect on people."

They watched as Susan shattered her opponents shield. She was sweating as she moved and her wand twirled as she incanted. " _Stupefy_!" The boy dropped like a sack of potatoes, leaving the redhead standing triumphantly in the ring, panting.

Susan looked out across the gardens until she spotted the two of them. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and joined Su and Daphne at their bench.

"Harry was right," Susan breathed as she plopped down.

"He usually is," Daphne agreed. Su giggled quietly. "But what was he right about this time?"

"Other people can't just stand there and shield against me. Not like he can, and they can't break my shield either."

"Trust me, I'm familiar," Daphne agreed readily.

"I wished I'd asked for help sooner," Susan continued. "Do you think he'd be able to help me with my French too?"

That made Daphne pause. In fact, it gave her an idea. Students needed to band together to learn French and keep up with the classes. Just as rigorous as they were the years before but now in another language and teaching style entirely. Project-based classwork rather than exams, but the principle was the same. However, students still needed help from time to time. Except for Harry's friends, it seemed, and now that Susan had moved up a class in dueling it was becoming clear.

"Of course he can. Or I can, if Harry's too busy."

"Too busy doing what, exactly?" Su wondered aloud.

"Harry is extremely busy. The academic standards he hold himself to are crazy. Writing papers and learning languages take time."

"Fighting Death Eaters, too."

"If he has to."

"Say Daphne, you would know." Su and Susan shared a brief glance. "Has the headmaster really been training Harry to fight You- Know-Who?"

"No he hasn't. The headmaster sometimes discusses Harry's academic interest with him but as far as I know there hasn't been any training."

"As far as you know."

"I would know," Daphne affirmed, a hint of warning in her tone.

They sat in silence for a moment and watched the duels.

"I could use help with school, too," Su murmured. "Do you think-"

"-Of course." Daphne waved the girl off. She may be able to leverage her powers to help them learn the language. Daphne stood up. "Come on. I want to show you something."

Su and Susan shared a look but stood and followed Daphne down to the train. Daphne boarded and went to the room opposite Harry. He reached out to her when he noticed her presence and she felt him brush against her thoughts.

Susan and Su watched as she drew her wand and began to murmur in low Latin. The room began to stretch and bend, twisting under Daphne's will. She might not be able to duel like Susan could, couldn't throw around the same raw power, but in terms of enchanting only Harry outdid her.

Susan gasped. "How are you doing this?"

The walls began to transfigure and soon the room mimicked the common room in Harry's study. The windows began to lengthen and soon the place was worthy of the towers of Hogwarts. Daphne felt sweat run down her brow, but a subtle gesture wiped it away before she turned back towards the other two.

"What do you think?" She smirked as their gapping faces. "It needs furnishing, I'm sure Harry will provide if I ask. You can meet me here for classwork if you like."

She couldn't wait to tell Harry her idea. She would gather the allies that he needed. She could spend time teaching people how to handle the grueling school work where he couldn't, and she'd do it here in this common room.

Su grinned back at Daphne. "Harry taught you to do this?" She could feel their admiring looks.

"Harry showed me how to do _magic_. All magic. We'll show you too. Your faith in Harry will be rewarded, you'll see."

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Daphne met Harry's eyes in the fourth-year boys' dorm, their faces lit by wax candles which surrounded the pair. He set down a golden platter, pure gold. It was necessary for the ritual they were about to perform. It had been Daphne's idea but Harry's design. His focus to guide their combined intent.

She gasped as he drew a silver knife across her palm but she didn't look away from him. Her eyes never left his. He let his pleasure known to her through their connection and she gasped again. She wanted to reach out and claw her hands across his robes but she let him guide her hands down to the plate. Her blood began to fill the shallow platter.

If Ernie or Michael were to try and enter their dorm in the train compartment, they would find it locked. They wouldn't challenge him, though. They would wait. They either feared him or respected him far too much to bring it up.

They would find Harry had magically expanded it in the meantime. A casual cover and gift for their silence. Separate rooms, separate showers, easy gifts to give for Harry at least. In truth he had already done so and would use the time to instead do this.

The mirrors were Daphne's idea and now she made new ones with his and her talents. It felt like a dance they had done before and a plan came to mind immediately. She cried as he murmured, imbuing her blood with his will. Her tears from the conflicting and overwhelming emotions turned the red to crystal. The gold melted and flowed into small golden chains covering a thick sheet of glass.

One for Neville. Harry's loyal best friend, Harry had doubted once that Neville would follow him if he asked, with Quirrel. Harry would never doubt him again. Harry had slowly been using mind magic on the boy for years. Neville was _his_.

Another for Michael. Michael had never doubted him and had never once asked for anything. Michael believed in him but would challenge Harry. In his academic ideas Michael had long been Harry's sound board. The eldritch effused from Harry and Michael soaked it up like a sponge. Drinking deep from its waters and gazing into its mysteries.

A third went to Susan. Who Daphne had collected and who his Daphne assured him could be trusted. Harry supposed it was true. Susan was in position to be useful and to absolutely bloom with power. He felt her raw strength when he dueled with his new apprentice. He could feel her passion in her mind as she strove to improve as though it were his own.

Harry leafed through Daphne's memories and he coaxed her mind against his as he watched memories play out. There was a plan with Susan and Daphne trusted her. It was enough. Daphne sighed softly at the feeling of him carousing her mind. Her face flushed as she gasped in pleasure.

"Say it," Harry whispered to Daphne in the dark room lit only by the soft light of candles. "Say it." He coaxed the words into her trembling mind.

" _Master_ ," She whispered in a soft tone.

He nodded and she could feel her _master's_ pleasure with both her plan, with her _cunning_. The way she was ensnaring allies for him pleased him. Waves of euphoria rolled against her mind through their connection, her pale face flushed. He would need help in the fight to come and the most important thing was communication.

Her plan to unite the students of Hogwarts and teach them to defend themselves against the coming darkness was a good one and his power would only grow with them.

Su Li would come later too, another Daphne brought. Harry had known her for years. She could be trusted and if she should prove loyal Harry would do nothing but reward that loyalty.

Tracy, dear Tracy was on his list. Harry trusted her implicitly. She wouldn't betray him and as a friend of his she would be in danger when Voldemort returned. She needed to be protected, and her family too.

Lisa meek and mild needed his protection too. She was far too gentle to fight. Harry wasn't sure her poor hard could take it. It might come down to it though. She would learn how, in time. Harry would show her how to grasp magic in both hands and do what was necessary.

Ernie would come around. He had been outspoken against Harry his first year but after some _encouragement he_ learned who his superiors were. Harry saw something in the talented wizard. Harry could teach him a great deal if only he asked, and Ernie _would_ ask. One was set aside for him, for when the time was right.

Near the end came Luna. His council on matters transcendent; about things Daphne did not yet know but would in time. He would see her safe in the war to come.

And finally, his Daphne. Whose plan it was to unite them all into a single coalition against the coming darkness. To create common areas for them and for him to slowly and almost insidiously bring them over to him.

One last for him made ten. Harry took the mirrors and kissed Daphne's bleeding hands. He sealed her wounds with a whisper and wave of holly. He had provided the focus, but it was her talents that had made the small gold lockets and reflective pools of crystal.

"Master," she murmured. "Harry, you promised we would talk about your family."

He had and they would. "So we did. Daphne, my family believed they could beat magic out of me. Magic scared them, see? I suppose I cannot fault them for that. But my magic was stronger. I healed quickly and I was already practicing Legilimency by the time I was a student at Hogwarts."

"I saw what they did to you."

"I knew you would," Harry continued. "But knowing about Voldemort is more important. Besides it was time you knew, time someone besides Dumbledore knew."

"Why does You-Know-Who want to kill you?"

"He doesn't want to kill me. He's _interested_ in me." His tone made it clear that it was worse than she imagined. "Barty Crouch would have killed you. Not me." Her question still remained, however. Why indeed. "Dumbledore knows why this began but he hasn't seen fit to share it with me. Though I have asked."

"He's keeping this from you?" She realized. Her blue eyes widened. "What else is he keeping from you?"

"I'm not sure. Though I intend to find out."

"How?"

"I've been in contact with Grindelwald. He's been teaching me since last summer."

" _Grindelwald_? Then-"

"Yes. I am apprenticed to the most powerful wizards of twentieth century." He let that revelation sink in before continuing. "I plan to break into Nurmengard. Then and only then will Grindelwald give me the knowledge of his private collection."

"You make it sound easy." He could feel her concern for him.

Harry looked down at the mirrors. Bounded together by her will, she would know everything said between them with her talents. They were powerful magical artefacts.

But so too was his cloak of invisibility.

"My clock of invisibility is no mere trinket. It's a powerful artefact. It's been in my family for centuries. With it I can cross any boundary, undetected. No ward can keep me out." She blinked.

But her disbelief bled into faith.

"These are just the first step in our war against Voldemort. I must know more. When I meet Grindelwald I will consume every memory in his head. He will be weakened by his imprisonment. His mental barriers will be no match for me."

"You have this power?"

She was conflicted. He made it sound so easy. He brushed her concerns aside.

"Yes, I have been planning this for months."

"And me? What is my role in the war to come?"

He brushed her cheek. "I will see you safe. I will convince Dumbledore to send your family into hiding and you will come wherever I go."

"You'll convince him? Harry, he hasn't prepared you to fight. He won't listen to you."

"You may be right."

"We have to change his mind. Harry, he has to teach you to duel!"

Harry groaned. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm open to ideas." He would love if Dumbledore taught him more, his willingness wasn't the factor in this equation.

"I'll come up with a plan for you. You have enough to worry about as it is. The tournament alone is threat enough as it is."

Harry chuckled. Dumbledore assured him the same thing.

Daphne wasn't amused. "You think I'm joking? I've already begun. I wanted to ask. I need money for the new common room across from this room. It needs furniture and-"

"I know." He silenced her by putting his finger to her lips.

It was the message Daphne told him she wanted to send. Being his girlfriend had literally made her more powerful. Her legend rising with his own.

It was entirely likely that being the Headmaster of Hogwarts had made Dumbledore even more powerful in this same way.

He needed to consult his psychic, and make no mistake, that was what Luna was. Had she foreseen this? Was he being manipulated again? Being his psychic had literally made her more powerful and, to be clear, _Trelawny_ was Dumbledore's. There was precedence in this from his predecessors.

Did Dumbledore fear Trelawny in her batty ways the same way Harry feared Luna's?

It was guaranteed that Dumbledore knew about this. That this was part of being a centennial wizard. Harry was certain it was, why then had Dumbledore kept it from him?

The answer was clear.

 _Dumbledore was afraid._

Harry watched through Daphne's mind as Susan defeated a Durmstrang student in the dueling pits. She shattered his shield when he sat still behind it, confident in his defense. She had been surprised. Shocked by her growth. She shouldn't be. Her power would only continue to grow if she took a place by his side.

Dumbledore had grown more powerful by taking on such a powerful student. Him. Harry was certain it worked both ways, but… well...He needed to consult his psychic. He needed to know more.

Beyond their mental connection Harry could feel a connection between himself and his friends. He could reach out and it felt like his mental fingers could almost brush across them. Was it really there? Was he imagining it?

When Daphne told him her plan, he wrote the equivalent of a Gringotts cheque for her - a letter sealed with his crest using his own blood for security. Magicals could hardly carry around the hundreds of galleons they spent every day, after all. The stacks of galleons in his trust already being spent by his pure-blood girlfriend. It literally reeked of cliche. It was enough to make him smile if not for the urgent reasons they did it.

But with magic clichés were powerful.

It was true to a degree. The most powerful witch in Slytherin had ensnared him. They were close to be sure but it was true nonetheless.

"I'll pay for the furniture you need and anything else." He said eventually. "I trust you Daphne. You've done so well so far. How will this common room convince Dumbledore to change his mind? He may change his mind on his own with time but by then-"

"It'll be too late. He needs to start training you _now_ ," Daphne finished. "He needs to believe your life depends on it."

The most talented or powerful or hardworking in their year were here a Beauxbatons. Was it a coincidence that they became Harry's followers, or was it fate that they would become friends? Were they powerful before he began to mold them or by molding them had he made them powerful. He might never get another chance like this to gain power.

The clay doesn't fear its sculptor.

Voldemort had said it, and if anything was Voldemort it was the half form which haunted Harry's dreams since first-year. Voldemort having said it might have swerved him from agreeing if Harry hadn't learned as much from Grindelwald as he had from Dumbledore.

"You think forming this coalition makes me seem ready? You want me to show him the new mirrors. He's already terrified that I am like Voldemort. This won't change his mind in that regard."

"You need instead to show him that you're like _him_. Go to academic conferences like he did. Use your power to help the students here and you'll see Dumbledore come around."

"Dumbledore mentioned that it's likely I will be sent to my official Godfather, Sirius Black at the trial in December."

"Wait! Sirius Black was well- one of the two best duelists the Aurors had. He can teach you!"

"Is-no, _was_ he really that good." Black may have been good once but perhaps he wasn't any longer. Even still the prospect was good.

"Well him and James Potter."

He gave her a curious look.

"You didn't know?"

He shook his head.

"Harry both your parents were incredibly talented. Your father was a talented transfigurer and duelist and your mother was inventing charms and potions out of Hogwarts. You were _born_ for this."

"I'll get Black to teach me." The man was plagued by fear and nothing but free time.

He looked down and noticed they were still kneeling, and her hands were still shaking in his.

"To bed with you." He murmured. "Call in sick or something but get your rest. This was not easy."

After the ritual Daphne rested, exhausted in his bed. She had cast by far more magic than him, sacrificing her own blood like that, so, Harry sealed the room behind him with protections as he left.

Harry found Hedwig in the Beauxbatons Owlery and tied the parcel filled with mirrors to the bird's leg. He addressed it to Neville, with clear instructions to destroy his old mirror and have others do the same.

 **These are no mere trinkets.**

He wrote.

 **Protect them.**

He murmured in Latin over the bird, casting protections over his familiar before she turned and flew off in the evening.

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 **-WG**


	26. Collecting V

**If only Ginny would have found Harry her first year on Valentine's day.**

 **Beta: Digitize27**

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The trip to Hogsmeade was all the easier without Daphne, though he was certain she would forgive him when he told her. He would have told her before he left, but it was an emergency. Dumbledore would have to forgive him too, if the older wizard could even detect Harry's absence.

He stepped through the space easily, three audible cracks echoing kilometers apart as he moved across the continent.

He broke into Hogwarts' grounds easily with his cloak. No ward could detect him. No defense was safe from him. He'd had to come after a call from Lisa.

Luna was in a psychic state.A "trance," she'd told him.

Well, the word she'd actually used was "seizing."

Harry had stowed the mirror and rushed right there. He didn't bother to climb the steps, instead, he breathed and drifted upwards, climbing swiftly under his own will.

He slipped inside the Hospital-Wing. Luna was there, bound under magic restraints to keep from hurting herself. Harry stepped beside her and revealed himself, silencing her as he did just to be safe. As he ran his wand over her though, she bolted upright. Harry pushed her gently down without touching her. Her bright blue eyes met his for a terrible moment before they rolled backwards into her head and she slumped back to the mattress.

"Shss," Harry hushed her. No one save Severus Snape knew Legilimency and Harry doubted he used it for healing. There was a reason muggles, _mortals_ ,mistook seizures for visions. He had to be here. A mind healer wouldn't arrive in time.

He reached out into Luna's mind, brushing against it. She was in there, shoved to the side, in pain, alone, as magic itself ran over her, _tore her apart_ ,and filled her with visions, her health be damned. He soothed her, her body slowly stopped convulsing in agony. She was still left whimpering, tears streaked across her face.

She was crying. Sobbing, really.

Only as her consciousness faded into a deep slumber did he allow himself to peer fully into her mind. As always it was blinding, almost. Harry traced the golden web skittering across her thoughts like a spider. He reached over and strummed a burning cord. He blocked it from her thoughts, sealing away the visions as they formed against the chaotic tapestry of her psyche.

Harry twitched the length of his wand and a simple 'get-well' card sprung into existence. With his wand he wrote a quick message inside before signing it and leaving it at her bedside. In reality, nobody but himself or another sufficiently talented legilimens could wake her.

He departed from the Hospital-Wing, his work done. Harry would be back come morning to wake her and set her about her day.

He barely even had to think to solve the usual riddle, finding many Ravenclaw students studying or lounging in the common room, though their discussions ceased when he entered.

"Harry..." A prefect stood. "You shouldn't be here, in Hogwarts at all! Let alone up here."

Harry was forced to stop and blink at the girl, a little surprised she had challenged him at all. He looked away, ignoring her completely.

"Lisa." He summoned her from the crowd over the squawking of the prefect.

"Lisa?" The Prefect wondered. "-No, no you shouldn't be here. You can't just walk in when you're not a student." She raised her wand but that was the furthest she reached before Harry stopped her.

" _Quiesco_." The magic left his lips and passed over her in a wave. Her body shivered into the sound of his voice. There was a clatter as her wand rolled from her fingers and onto the floor. Her eyes went dim, she was totally unable to resist even the slightest legilimens attack.

He caught her with his magic as she fell, floating her in place, then moved her across the room and up the stairs to where he knew her bed was.

"Lisa?" Harry murmured again. No one challenged him.

"Harry-uh-" Marrietta began before Cho tugged on her shirt hard.

Cho gave her a warning look. "We'll just clear out of your way, Harry. I'm sure you'll take care of things."

Harry was unable to detect irony in her words, so he nodded. Lisa approached him as the room began to disperse.

"What about Madam Pomfrey?" Lisa wondered. "Harry, I thought she was dying. Her dormmates mentioned she'd had… fits before, they called them. But this was different."

He nodded along at her words, he cleared his throat. Harry had been rapidly coming into his power in France, becoming closer to the man he'd seen in the mirror of Erised. He was coming to an unsettling truth. That he was less human than he'd ever thought.

Was there a definition of magical creature he'd read which described them but then hadn't excluded wizards? As though wizards were exempt from the definition and classification. Wizards were magical creatures, themselves. Not just Vampires and Veela and whatever the hell Harry was. All of them.

 _All of us._

He'd wondered for a long time about the nature of himself and the magical creatures around him. He consumed and used the emotions around him all his life in a way which seemed indistinguishable between that exhibited by a Dementor. They had to be similar, he'd modeled his abilities by studying them.

Boggarts too, as well as sphinxes. All had powers like his own.

He'd wondered briefly with Daphne if a sphinx could be the monster they would face in the first task. They'd quickly ruled it out. A sphinx wouldn't care about wizards and the tournament, the same way a phoenix wouldn't. How would you catch a phoenix and force it into anything like submission? Its regeneration would restore it from anything, and no ward could hold it back. Defeat one? Perhaps. Vanquish one? _Never._

Was a wizard no different? Was he? He was just doing what humans did, but with magic. Taking apart and using the pieces of magical creatures as tools. Humans had been doing things like that to the animals they had hunted, sharpening bone and fashioning weapons for millennia. Even going so far to wear their skins as clothes.

His wand was like that. It was made of a magical creature and a stick, the height of magical technology. It actually was. When modern archaeologists refer to stone age tools as advanced technology it's easy to get arrogant and forget how many people suffered and died to get there. His wand was the same.

Their potions were the same too, recipes made from the essence of magical creatures, stripped of their magic for use by wizards and witches.

If Harry was a magical creature that could consume the memories and emotions of others, was Voldemort a revenant? Was he some kind of unstoppable, amortal wraith?

Voldemort had made himself into something missing a piece of its soul. Something which was less than a person. He'd created a Horcrux to stay alive; magic even Grindelwald had fiercely cautioned Harry against. The Diary was surely a Horcrux, but destroying it had not banished Voldemort.

Which could only mean one thing; Voldemort had made another. He'd murdered enough people to do it, certainly. So he'd made at least another. Perhaps two more to bring the total up to three, the first magically powerful number. Harry was sure. It was what he himself would do after all.

Where had the Diary come from? Had it lingered at Hogwarts until Ginny stumbled upon it? Was its mere happenstance? How else could an eleven-year-old girl get her hands on a piece of the Dark Lord's soul but through enemy action?

Harry would have guarded his soul with the most brutal and powerful protections he could. There existed magics which persuaded muggles to avoid areas. Wards which touched the mind. Harry could set these up easily. He could create barriers that would drive the perpetrator mad or haunt them with their worst nightmares. Even wizards and witches would be no match for his skill with breaking into minds. Not when he was at his most brutal, cunning, and wicked.

One piece he would hide in the school. A secret only he and the magical castle knew. This place had set his soul free, it was only fair that he'd pay it back.

He would never hide a piece at the Dursleys. The very thought disgusted him, but where else? Where else was important to him?

He began to pace, stroking his jaw.

Dumbledore would be hunting these objects, surely. Perhaps he knew but Harry couldn't trust the wizard enough to tell him.

Another he'd give to Daphne to protect. He could trust her to guard something like that, especially if she knew what it was. He could just tell her it was a valuable magical artefact and needed protection, though, she may not like him dabbling in such magics.

Then what of the last? Neville, perhaps?

What would that mean for Voldemort or… perhaps _Tom_...

Unless… unless what?

He needed to ask Ginny Weasley. She would tell him, or he would persuade her to. He had to know how she got the Diary, even if the memory had been removed that would be something at least. Something the Diary tried to hide, but she probably wouldn't even know whether her mind had been tampered with.

He supposed he'd find out. It was literally his only lead for that particular mystery.

Dumbledore knew about Horcruxes, surely. He'd read _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ but he'd kept it from Harry. Why? Was he scared Harry would desire a Horcrux too? Harry wasn't that scared of dying, but perhaps Dumbledore didn't know that. Perhaps the similarities between himself and Voldemort frightened the old man too much.

They certainly terrified Harry.

So did the question of what Harry was, though. He did things other wizards couldn't _casually_. Dumbledore may know. Unlike with Horcruxes, Harry wasn't sure Dumbledore knew. He wasn't even sure if Dumbledore suspected.

He looked down at Luna. With his power growing, what was happening to Daphne and Luna and Neville? Dumbledore either hadn't known about these consequences or had refused to tell Harry. Both options were damning.

Had his growing strength caused this seizure? Had he inspired the power for this vision? He was beginning to suspect he was changing those around him almost like-

"-Harry!?" Lisa reached out and grabbed him. He must have been truly lost in his thoughts. He'd summoned her only to almost immediately forget she was even there.

"I am taking care of Luna," Harry assured her. "Fetch Neville, Lisa."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

"With Daphne in Beauxbatons, I may require your assistance early tomorrow," he informed her. "After you direct Neville to my room, you should retire."

"Where will you sleep? Shouldn't you go back to France?" She wondered. "Harry my head is going too fast- I don't know if I can slee-"

Harry held a finger to her lips. "I will be fine. Go to bed, Lisa. You are more tired than you think." He wormed his way into her mind and stilled her anxieties. She relaxed on the other side of his hand.

"Of course..." Her eyes grew blank as her words trailed off in a quiet hum. "Hmmh…" She dazedly kissed his finger and departed, her steps a slow, sleepy stumble.

Harry considered her. He hadn't meant to push for something like that. It just happened. Happened _easily_ even. He was sure he had detected Lisa's romantic thoughts a few times, but he hadn't really taken them to heart. Something about a muggle boy in an apartment across from her mother's in London? On the other hand, that had been first or even second-year.

He turned at once for his fortress within the castle, hovering down the staircases and over the gaps their midnight motions made.

Entering, he flicked his wand. The candles and fireplaces roared to life at once. Flames flickered forward almost like expectant housecats and Harry felt at once like he was home. The place had been cleaned by someone and seemed well looked after. Harry set his feet down before the window looking outwards onto the gorgeous midwinter lake.

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Ginny was still mostly in her sleep-wear when she padded into the Hospital-Wing on an early Wednesday morning. She'd been dragged out of bed and excused from morning classes to see her friend. Professor McGonagall explained that Luna had some kind of fit but now, in the light of the early morning, her friend lay still in the bed. Her pale hair was turned golden by the light until she shifted and the light fell out of her face.

Luna's skin wasn't quite the right shade of pale to make her stand out and her silver hair was thinner than totally healthy. Ginny reached down and ran a hand across her friend's brow. She looked up as the door to the infirmary opened, but it was Madam Pomfrey who seemed content to leave Ginny to her visit. Ginny was still alone at Luna's bedside and her heart ached.

There were signs too, there were leather restraints still attached to the bed, ready to be secured to Luna's wrists. Luckily, no sign of restraint injury on Luna's wrists or ankles though, the leather would never allow for that and even if it did Madam Pomfrey could seal bruises and cuts in an instant.

"Oh Luna…" Ginny blinked back tears and flicked her bright red hair back as she straightened. She wiped her face on her combination of bluer evening and more crimson morning robes. When her eyes cleared, they focused on a small golden card beside the table. Ginny glanced down at her friend before delicately reaching over and picking up the car. She didn't open it or anything invasive, but she did read the signature.

Her chest tightened a little.

It was Harry's.

It wasn't creepy or anything, that she knew that. She'd just seen his name scrawled in his handwriting in some academic paper, or the newspaper, or perhaps even on his school work. Professor Flitwick kept one of the essays Harry wrote when he was twelve up amongst his artefacts and books in his classroom.

She set the card back down. If Harry was here in the castle looking after Luna it changed things. For one it meant that Ginny shouldn't have anything to worry about. She would probably be fine with Harry watching over her.

She looked down at Luna's shimmering silver hair and shuffled her feet. The smooth stone floor felt rough with only her slippers between her toes and the flagstones and they were _freezing_. With Luna showing no sign of wakening, Ginny decided she may as well change into her uniform and get breakfast, so she kissed Luna's hand goodbye and departed.

Ginny was first forced to briefly descend, riding and climbing staircases downwards before she diverted. She traveled around the castle and began to climb up again towards Gryffindor Tower. Portrait denizens, dozens of them, with some still yet to wake, gave the walls of Hogwarts a cozy animation.

She passed a window and Ginny pulled her robes around herself just a little tighter. All about her, with warm fires etched in enchanted canvas, ladies and gentlemen poured warm cups of tea and coffee. Gryffindor Tower was warm, but the Scottish winter was relentless and no matter where you were in the castle the weather seemed to want to push in on you. The people painted in the portraits weren't in Scotland, necessarily.

They could be somewhere warmer. Southern Europe or Northern Africa, maybe.

Ginny had been among the few talented enough to be invited to France. Her coursework was conventionally above average but her spell-work was considered excellent. With her mind healer… it just hadn't been in the budget after the trip to Egypt.

Ginny ascended to the Common Room and was nearly bowled into by Hermione as she rushed out of the tower. Their eyes met in a low stare.

There had been a spark of jealousy in Ginny's chest when they'd first met which had only been embittered when Hermione had thrown away that thing that Ginny had wanted most since she'd come to Hogwarts. She'd only wanted it more than ever since he'd saved her life.

"Ginny," Hermione greeted. "You're out in the castle early." It was phrased like a statement, but Hermione's nature wasn't exactly a secret. Her eyes held a curious and demanding glint.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but I was visiting a friend in the Hospital-Wing."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Ginny couldn't tell if it was at Ginny's tone or in curiosity. Probably both given her scowl. "Who was it?"

"I just told you it wasn't any of your business," Ginny returned. She stepped closer to Hermione, simultaneously, rising further into the Common Room.

Hermione's fists balled up, but she did and said nothing more. She continued to rush past Ginny and bumped into her. Ginny played sports and exercised often, and though she was built in a leaner fashion than Hermione, she was taller. Hermione stumbled down the steps before picking herself up. She gave one last wrathful look before disappearing completely.

Ginny shook her head. She breezed through the Common Room and up to her dorm to begin her morning traditions.

Neither of them had friends they'd made first year. At least comparatively. Ginny still did alright, but Neville was abundantly Harry's best friend and Hermione's paranoid rantings to anyone who would listen about how dangerous Harry was drove a wedge between them that couldn't be healed. The other girls in Hermione's year didn't share her motivations, so she was mostly alone.

What separated herself and Hermione was that after what happened to Ginny first year, she did start making friends, or at least acquaintances. It wasn't like anyone knew she opened the chamber. If Harry had told anyone, they'd been tight-lipped about it.

She had classes off in the morning, so she was content to take her time and get breakfast. The Great Hall was always crowded in the morning, but it also always smelled fantastic. Ever since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, Ginny had struggled not to help herself to everything every morning. Breakfast was awesome, even just the buttered toast with eggs on was enough to get her down here day after day.

It wasn't like she didn't get enough food at the burrow. Not that you could tell from a glance at Ron just a few seats down and across the table.

This morning however, sweet, sweet breakfast was interrupted with a small tap on her shoulder.

"Neville?" Ron looked up from a few seats down. "You were up early."

"I had things to do, it's looking to be a little busier for me than normal but..." Neville gave a low chuckle.

Aloud, Seamus wondered, "you here for breakfast, then?"

Neville shook his head. "No, I ate earlier this morning." Then he bent over slightly and much more quietly murmured at Ginny. "Could I talk to you for a second?" His eyes flicked away from the table, towards the exit to the Hall.

"Oh um-" Ginny set down her toast begrudgingly and made to stand.

When her eyes met Neville face again, it was bowled in a grimace. "You might just take that with you. I don't know how long this'll take."

"Wait hold on- how long what might take?" Neville glanced over at Ron. Power dynamics in all of Hogwarts had changed overnight when Harry killed Barty Crouch Jr. in a duel. An actual wizard duel to the death. Not some school conflict with Malfoy in a corridor but an honest to Merlin wizard's duel.

Neville looked over at Ron. Neville had started to lose his own baby weight, and while it was clear he wouldn't ever be as tall as Ron or the Weasley's, it wouldn't be by a lot. Beyond that Neville's shoulders were already wider than Ron's.

Ginny had seen a photo of Neville's father once and could easily see the resemblance beginning to take shape more and more. She's heard that Neville had once been one of the weakest wizards of their year, his only talent being Herbology.

Ginny had never seen it herself, or if she had it had been lost in the haze that was her entire first year. Neville was good at Defense and though his spells were inefficient, they were strong.

"I'm not sure," Neville shrugged, then reached over and grabbed an apple to place in his robes.

Ron glanced around the table and back over to Neville. "Well... where are you going with my little sister?"

"I don't need your help, Ron." Ginny rose from the long bench, snagging her toast from her plate as she did. "Neville's trustworthy." Despite her words and a bite of toast she still had questions of her own. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well I was hoping I could take you to Harry," Neville explained. "He asked me to find you. He said he had some questions for you."

"Harry's actually here in the castle?" Ginny asked.

Neville nodded but he glanced at her with his head tilted slightly and his eyebrows low. "What do you mean actually? How could you-?"

"I saw a card from him for Luna while I was visiting her this morning," Ginny answered preemptively.

Neville bobbed his head. "That makes sense, you haven't told anyone have you?"

She could hear a hint of concern in his voice and Ginny quickly denied it. "No, it was just half an hour ago."

"Perfect. Excellent." Neville seemed ready to relieve himself of his anxiety over that. "You coming then?"

"Wait? Now?" She asked. "Can I at least change into something more…" She trailed off when Neville scoffed and shook his head.

"Harry is pretty busy. Come on."

Ginny grimaced but glanced down. She gestured over herself with her wand and muttered in Latin. A few hygiene charms she'd long since memorized helped a little and she straightened the creases in her robes. She didn't look particularly good but…

She didn't have much choice right now. "Lead the way, right?"

As they walked along the bench their path was blocked when Hermione swung her legs out, pulling a book bag with her. "I want to talk to him."

Neville had to angle his head down at Hermione. "He's in his study. Can't you find it?"

She glared at him. "You know I can't. If you don't take me to him, I'm just going to follow you."

Neville sighed. "Fine. Harry will deal with you. I bet he'll even be glad to talk to you." He started walking again and Hermione fell into pace beside him. Ginny stretched herself to keep up. Her own questions suddenly shoveled to the side in favor of Hermione's pestering.

Hermione scoffed. "Yeah right. You might believe that, but I don't."

"You'd be surprised at the esteem Harry holds you in." Neville seemed to find her disbelief genuinely amusing.

"Um-Neville?" Ginny managed as they began to ascend into the castle. ""Did Harry actually tell you what he wanted to talk about?"

"I have no idea."

Ginny wondered for a second. "Does it have anything to do with Luna?"

"Maybe?" Neville shrugged. "I know that's why Harry came here last night. Or one of the reasons, at least. He was here to do mind healing or something on her. I don't know the details."

"What's Loony Lovegood got to do with anything?" Hermione demanded.

"Don't call her that," Ginny snapped across Neville.

At the same time Neville glanced over at Hermione. "Better not let Harry hear you say that," Neville warned. "Anyways, I just told you I don't know."

"He didn't tell you?"

"I didn't ask," Neville shrugged Hermione's question off again. There was a casual practice to which he managed it.

"You just do whatever he says, then?"

Neville's hands slunk into his robes where they seemed to fidget. "Hermione have you ever known Harry not to help someone who asks him for it? Besides, I didn't even ask him for help." There was a low anger in the pitch of Neville's voice. "He just gave it to me. He changed my life. He made me better than who I used to be; so, when he showed up, I just asked him what he wanted me to do."

Hermione opened her mouth. "Neville, Harry blames Dumbledore. He thinks Dumbledore let him get hurt or something. He-"

"All families fight," Neville insisted, the minor fidgeting in his robes became clenched fists. "Because you were his friend, Harry trusted you when he shared that with you. And you just-" Neville broke off. "If somebody had shared something like that about me I would-" He broke off again, just as angry. "If I was Harry I would be pissed."

Neville stopped and Ginny was forced to blink. That Harry had turned room into the castle into something completely different was something of an open secret. People knew it was hard to find like all of Hogwarts' other mysteries, but Ginny had walked down this corridor for years and had never seen this door.

Neville swept the door open before them. The room was as fine as any other in Hogwarts. Freshly polished glass and a hovering chandelier of glowing lights made the room glow. The beads of light swarmed the air before a large white table over a mosaic tile floor. There were several more doors leading off from the room they were in from either side.

The far end of the room raised into a sort of dais where it met with an enormous window. Harry was casually leaning against the window. He looked as handsome as ever, really, not that Ginny had though that would change between now and when she'd seen him last.

His eyes glowed under wild unkept hair in dark pits, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him look super well rested and now was no different. Even though France was warmer than frigid Scotland, Harry seemed a tad pale. Maybe it was the light playing a trick on her, though.

"Harry, about Hermione-" Neville lead. he'd left Ginny and Hermione near the entrance and walked to the far side of the room.

Harry calmly interrupted him. "Thank you, Neville. This is perfect. You should go to class, though. I'll take care of things from here." His words had an unusual reverb as though she was hearing the words twice. His lips seemed slightly off with the words.

Ginny had to blink her eyes hard to make sure she was seeing it right.

Ginny knew she wasn't alone in feeling it, though. She could tell that Hermione did too. Ginny could see all the muscles in Hermione's back and shoulders tighten at the sound and her head reflexively flinch as though to look around but stopping in the motion.

Harry was clearly standing in front of them despite his voice coming from next to them.

"Of course. You know where to find me, then." Neville walked out of the room past both the girls. The door shut solidly, shaking slightly against the frame and for Hermione that seemed sufficient to break the silence.

"What're you doing, here!" Hermione stormed forwards. Taking the first few steps out of the several dozen needed to cross the room she brandished her outrage, but Harry didn't seem afraid of the witch in the slightest.

Ginny was able to feel the agitation coming off the muggleborn. It was a harsh acrid taste and, compared to Hermione's aura, Harry's was minute and quiet.

Harry's eyes flicked beyond the bushy brunette. His eyes locked with Ginny's and she felt her breath catch. It was a familiar look. She'd seen it on the train in their third year and she'd even seen it when she'd seen him at Hogsmeade.

It was something that bordered both concern and guilt, but he didn't bother to hide it.

She'd reflected on that expression of his in both her waking and sleeping dreams. Of course, she'd often reflected on and imagined other things too. She felt her heart speed up in embarrassment. She had dreamed about things happening between the two of them that were outright impossible. It was outright wishful thinking rather than an actual plan in any sense.

Now standing in front of him she wasn't sure what to do or say.

 _Like Hogsmeade all over again._

"Ginevra-" The way he hit the 'v' in her name made her want to rub her thighs together. "-you look a little better each time I see you."

He spoke softly but she was able to hear him as though he was next to her again and his lips seemed off with the words. It felt like by the time she had processed his words his lips were closed and upturned slightly.

"I-uh," Ginny thought desperately for something to say but the note of relief in his voice was super distracting. "Er-well-"

 _I wasn't ready for this today! Oh Merlin I didn't even brush my teeth!_

"Drop the act, Harry!" Hermione snapped at him. Ginny had forgotten Hermione had been there with all of Harry's attention on her. It was with a bit of relief and disappointment that she felt his eyes sweep off her and towards the other girl.

He smiled at her for a moment before he turned back to the window. "Of course, I could ask the same about you. You should be in class, no?"

"I meant here in Hogwarts!" Ginny could hear Hermione's teeth grit loud enough that she winced.

Ginny herself had crossed Hermione before but she'd never antagonized her so outright. Hermione was a witch who could extract terrible revenge on her peers.

 _Harry isn't her peer, though._

"I'm still technically a student here. You know I must be. Otherwise I couldn't have possibly gotten through the wards. Surely you know all about that from _Hogwarts: A History_."

"Don't mock me," Hermione glared. "You just used your cloak."

Harry looked almost disappointed. "Hermione, invisibility wouldn't hide you from the Hogwarts wards, you know that."

"Your cloak is special. Its more powerful than a regular invisibility cloak. It-"

"More powerful and more special than the wards here?" Harry asked rhetorically. His low laugh and generally unthreatened demeanor only seemed to unbalance Hermione more. "You know that can't be true." His tone was unapologetically gentle.

Ginny blinked and Harry had seemed to cross the distance to Hermione in that moment. With recall she knew he had walked the distance but she'd somehow lost track. He cocked his head to the side and looked at the bushy haired girl very closely.

Ginny watched Hermione bite her lip and looked away from Harry. "Don't condescend me."

"Hermione I am well within my right to be here at this school."

Hermione flinched away from his proximity like his touch would dissolve her, but the motion just made Ginny anxious about her own breath.

Ginny sniffed and a clear thought made its way through her foggy brain. "Then why did Neville want to know who else knows you're here?" Ginny couldn't help herself. The words trailed from her lips.

The look of surprise on Hermione's face was worth a million joules but Ginny couldn't bring herself to take any pleasure from it.

Harry didn't seem bothered by the question, in fact he seemed content to address it. "Just because I can be here legally and whatnot doesn't mean I want everyone to know it." He met her eyes with a shrug. "I have enemies who have ambushed me before. Making my location well known is a really good way to invite that sort of thing. Hogwarts can't be avoided for me but then again Hogwarts must be avoided by them. So…"

"So…" Hermione pressed.

"I'm being careful." He glanced between the two of them. "By the time my enemies know I'm here I'll have what I need and be gone."

"And what do you need?" Hermione demanded further.

"I need to talk to Ginevra." Ginny stomach clenched again.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Stop calling her Ginevra! Her name is Ginny!"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Ginevra is a witch's name. Far more than 'Ginny.' And make no mistake," Harry indicated Ginny with an open palm, "she _is_ a witch."

"She isn't! She's just a-"

"She absolutely is! She isn't some innocent girl." Harry disagreed firmly. "She can't be."

"She doesn't need to be dragged into whatever it is you 'need' from her." She gestured up at Harry violently. "She doesn't need to be mixed up in whatever it is-"

"That's not your decision!" Ginny decided she'd had enough. She would hear him out, she owed him that much. Besides, she _wanted_ to hear him out. "None of this is! It's mine and I want to hear him out."

Hermione turned towards her, mouth parted slightly.

"You still aren't getting it." Harry's reply and expression were cold and jagged. "I don't need anything from you, except for you to get out." Somehow Harry had marched Hermione all the way to the door. Pressing closer with her backing up all the while.

"I won't let-"

He waved at the door and it opened straight into her back. Knocking her slightly and interrupting her. "Let?'" Harry laughed. "I don't take orders from anyone on this continent. You can't possibly stop me, and you have no authority to do so." Harry looked away from her and towards his wrist.

Ginny blinked. She trusted Harry, he'd saved her life and more but…

"You can rest assured that both of our guardians are both well aware of this subject."

 _Oh._

"W-what do you mean?"

"Wait." Hermione intruded. "Is it-"

"-It's none of your business." Harry insisted. He gave a glance to his wrist again where a band of silver hung, It looked simple enouh, but with wizards even a simple watch could disguise so much more. "You have McGonagall's class now, don't you?"

Hermione huffed but it seemed that no matter how badly she wanted to fight with Harry, she seemed to want to stay on the professor's good side. "This isn't over, Potter."

"It was never anything."

The door shut with a loud thud when Hermione departed.

Finally, she was alone with Harry. It felt like a dream come true, a little. She ran her foot along the hard floor.

"I'm sorry about that." Harry apologized with an exasperated huff. "Now…" He paced back around the table. There was a small stack of books, quills, ink, and other work materials. Harry reached down and began to sort through it.

Ginny worked up her courage. "Harry, what is it we need to talk about?" She swallowed hard.

Harry was watching her carefully their eyes met, and she found her resolution. For once he looked away first. "It-ah-concerns your first year here," he confessed. He was pulling his own teeth with each syllable.

Her mind recoiled from the memories that were immediately drawn up. The ones she tried to fight most but whenever she closed her eyes they flashed in front of her. All her Occlumency training and therapy just let her analyze the feeling of Tom inside her.

She couldn't totally muffle the slight gasp she made at the memory, nor how her whole body instinctively shifted as though to escape a phantom pain. She tried to play it off as a natural part of her motion and speech.

She held it at bay and breathed. Instead she shifted to analyze the break in his speech. "You saved me," she managed. She met his eyes.

"For a certain definition of saved." When she met his eyes, she couldn't tell if she managed to hide how she reacted from him.

 _Come on Ginny. Don't blow this by acting like that in front of him._

"You did. I would have died. I was burning up when you found me!" She could feel the cold of the chamber against her skin. The smooth, wet pressure against her was nothing compared to the burning of her insides within, yet somehow it was all she could focus on, both now and then.

She could hear Tom's voice. It was like a serrated knife running across the bones of her spine. She knew now what vile Legilimency prongs felt like. She could never forget.

"I should have known," Harry murmured as he parted some books and set them aside in a pile. "I should have noticed."

"The headmaster said the same…" Ginny whispered back.

Harry barked out a laugh, "did he? Well, fair enough." Her eyes flicked back to his face. "Ginevra I wanted to ask you a few questions about-"

-Ginny almost screamed. In the end a half-strangled sentence escaped her. "Tom no-" The words became a guttural noise which barely had the air to pass her lips. Hot and suffocating barbs against her emotions that raked when she resisted until she could only mewl pitifully for mercy and submit. Her thoughts and memories corralled into a fine order for Tom. She had blurred memories of trying to fight when she and her therapist had peeled back the ones Tom had used to hide it with.

She tried to combat her reactions again, but Harry was holding all of her terrorized nights in his hand. She felt her vision go tunneled slightly.

It was small black book with a hole that looked like it had been part punched and part melted into it. Ginny didn't recognize the damage, but she could never forget the book. Disfigured as it was and even from across the room Ginny was able to recognize Tom's Riddle's Diary.

She could almost make out the written scrawl etched into the spine or she imagined she could. Every muscle in her body contracted painfully.

Tom had shoved burning rods inside her so that if she moved too much she would scream in agony and he marionetted her around in her own body. The burning agony never showing on her face all year, in front of everyone even the teachers had no idea-

It was slow and excruciating work but eventually the pentimento of what Tom had actually been and done had come into place.

She knew she wouldn't be able to hide how her body moved at the memory despite her Occlumency training. She tried to repress the movement as her whole body tightened and she flinched away like she'd actually hurt herself.

Of course, she didn't. It was just-

"Woah, woah, woah, woah." Harry led her to a chair at the table. She blinked away darkness. Her vision had tunneled completely, and she couldn't see at all. She just felt the chair against her and Harry's warm- _real_ -hands touching her arm and back.

Her vision came twirling into place and she covered her head in her hands rather than look at Harry, then to the book that was still in his hand. Her mouth stretched in terror she pushed against his chest hard.

"What?" Harry asked. His gaze flickering from the book to where she was recoiling. "No. No! Its dead. Trust me." She didn't calm down. In fact, she felt plenty a little lightheaded. "Ginny it's dead. Dumbledore says so. I say so. It's gone."

Her eyes didn't waiver from where they were trained on the small journal. "He's dead?"

"The book is." Harry agreed, but it had the feel of good news before- "But Voldemort is not."

"He isn't? You killed him, though."

"No one, and I do mean no one, knows what really happened that night except for him." Harry ran a hand through his hair and Ginny could see his jawline easily. He sighed and relaxed his clenched jaw. "He was defeated but not vanquished."

"You're going to beat him, right?" Ginny insisted. "You and Dumbledore?"

"Tom only became wiser once he was out of school. He never stopped being clever. You know what he is."

Ginny shuddered. "What was he?" Her tone came out sharp. "What was he really? What is he now?"

"Yes." Harry purred. Ginny felt herself glow. "We need answers. We can't destroy what we don't understand." Harry slammed the book on the table. The slap of the leather against the marble made her flinch. "Ginny, I need to know how you got this."

"I already told Dumbledore I don't know!" Ginny shouted. "Everyone kept asking me. My brothers and my parents and the teachers too. I had to keep telling them I didn't know!" She looked away from him. Her fingers began to run through the hair across her scalp first one hand than the other.

"He made me forget. You said it's possible, Dumbledore did, my parents and the healer. Everyone says it's possible. I know it's possible, too. There are things he made me forget! I know he made me forget! I know I must have done those things, but I just can't remember it at all!"

Harry nodded along to her words.

Ginny felt manic she couldn't stop them, she trailed off, rambling into nothing.

Harry reached out. "Slow down. You're not in any danger or any trouble, and I believe you. Just let it all out."

She burst into tears and with them came a rush of endorphins. She felt him walking her somewhere, but she could hardly see through the tears.

"I had no idea your trauma was so severe." She scowled. He was supposed to think she was confident and strong. "Its okay of course. I don't know what I expected but I am honestly glad you made it out at all in any sense."

His arm settled around her with a warm cloak. It had the feel of summoned material, but it was warm and laced with his presence. She drank in the comfort like she had when she woke up in the Chamber.

"You stunned me," she said stupidly. Not just the statement but also the way she said it. The words left her lips anyway, though, tumbling lopsidedly and leaving her feeling slow. "In the chamber you stunned me."

"I did," Harry confessed. "I had no idea what Tom had done to you."

She looked away from him. Her expression was weak and pleading. "But then you never talked to me."

"You wonder why then I personally heal Luna and not you?" Harry interpreted preternaturally. He smiled empathetically. Her fingers stopped in her hair. Her hands stopped in place, one over the other. She could feel her skin burn and knew from examining herself in the mirror after an episode that she had probably rubbed the skin bright red.

Lowly, she returned with a, "yes."

"You know that I'm not healing her. Not really. I eased her suffering because no one else could but have I healed anything?" Harry shook his head. "Ginevra, Luna can never be cured. Only ever treated, and even then, only the symptoms. You know that. It's not the same. You suffered trauma but it has ended. Luna's never will."

Ginny blinked. "Hermione was dragging your name through the mud. She said you thought Luna was a genuine prophet." She peered closer. "You actually do think that. Is it true, then?"

"I think that she is a seer," Harry corrected. "I also think you should ask her yourself." He gave her a moment pause before he continued. "Besides, I'm not a mind healer. If I would have tried to heal you, I would have destroyed your life."

"I don't believe that," Ginny disagreed wholeheartedly.

Harry winced and returned with nothing. He didn't grow quiet as though he agreed but rather, it was as though her disagreement had only made him surer that he was right. He palmed his chin in a thoughtful silence before Ginny reached back out to him.

"You know about mind magic," Ginny insisted. "You must know something."

"I'm not sure what I would know that your own mind healer wouldn't…"

"You have to be able to do something."

Harry frowned and finally looked up at her. "Maybe… I can probably show you some of what I know." Harry considered for just a pause. Only long enough to make her wonder whether he was finished talking. "It'll probably be helpful for what I intend to ask you for anyways." That seemed to settle things for him.

"What do I need to do. I try and clear my mind, but it's really difficult." Ginny continued. "My spell work is always good, I don't understand why I'm failing at this."

"You are _not_ trying to clear your mind." Harry intoned the words harsh enough to make her flinch, jumping slightly in the chair next to him. "I just saw you," he murmured. "You're actively trying repress your memories and thoughts whenever they encroach." He reached out and grasped her hand, firm enough to let her know it wasn't a mistake and soft enough to be comforting.

Ginny felt like she'd been whipped around again but she didn't feel like she had the energy for a blush or anything. "I'm doing them the way I was told," Ginny didn't quite disagree, she was simply letting him know. It sounded like an excuse to her own ears, but Harry merely nodded.

Harry released her hand with a reassuring squeeze. "I'll explain," he assured her; he raised his wand and Ginny couldn't help but feel her eyes follow it. She'd seen many wands before, and while she had more specifically seen Harry's wand before, a dark brown thing, she'd never actually been close enough to make out the detail on the handle before.

It was a simple and elegant device. He gripped it quite a way above the handle, far enough up that when he waved it, she thought something might explode, but the wand seemed to be fine with how he choked up on it.

He traced it before the table, casually summoning deep and wide saucer without a word. She watched as he slowly began filling the bowl with water from the tip. Once it was fill, he gently dipped the tip into the liquid and around the tip of the wand the water began to turn a rainbow of shades stretching out until all the water in the bowl was colored.

Ginny peered at it but couldn't discern a pattern. Reds and violets would bubble and sink down, in other places red swirled into yellow and orange and back out again.

"Let the water be your mind. The colors are your emotions and experiences, always mixing and never still. Something reminds you of a loved one and memories bubble up. You see an old friend or an enemy for the first time in years and your feelings just _happen_."

"What about fake feelings," Ginny felt herself whisper. "What about things I know didn't happen."

"A Legilimens, and to a lesser degree any empath," Harry continued. "Can force you to feel something." Harry touched his fingers to the surface of the liquid, and she watched him cause a flare of pink which then spread out and dissolved. "They force you to feel something and then just watch what happens naturally. If done subtly the target never even knows it happened."

Harry had her attention. She eyed watched a few of the pink splotches remain near the surface in tiny orbits. "They never go away."

"Nothing goes away. Everything is permanent." Harry rapidly agreed. "You can apply pavlovian conditioning to them if you want from there. That can be useful, but it can take a while. In the short term, I just need to remind you of something and see how your emotions react to it, or I can do the converse; I can make you feel something and see what it reminds you of."

She wondered briefly for a moment. "Why not do both?"

"If I control both what you feel and think, then I haven't learned anything, I've only stepped into you for a moment."

Ginny cringed slightly at that.

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "That was tactless."

"No, no. Please." Ginny sighed deeply. "I really need to know. So how do I stop these feelings from reaching everywhere?"

"Training yourself to ignore and not feel those surface feelings will only exacerbate your trauma," Harry informed her. "Your phantom pains will only get worse. You have to accept the reality of what happened to you. Besides, even if you did cut yourself off somehow, it still wouldn't stop a more direct approach."

"You can go deeper than that, though," Ginny affirmed. She already knew. "That's all on the surface though. The way you act and feel, and which are visible. Most of you is down here." She pointed at the deep sides of the bowl.

"You can influence the depths of a person from the top but that can take a long time, like I mentioned. It isn't a process that can be sped up or slowed down per se," he continued. "They can do more than that, too. If you don't care about what happens to the water and how it gets changed, or even how the deeper shifting waves are changed, they can reach in and take what they want." Harry penetrated the bowl all the way to the bottom. "This cannot be done subtly. There are always symptoms." He withdrew his hand from the now perturbed mess.

Water dripped from his fingers onto the table, pooling into little dome on the table.

"Then how do you do it? How do you stop them?"

"There are two traditional schools of thought on this. The first is to create a wall, to separate yourself from the world. You allow nothing to enter and leave and nothing to influence you." Harry tapped the bowl and the water froze.

"Sounds hard…" She watched him turn the water opaque again and melt it.

"It is. Especially in the face of something as stimulating as torture." He seemed to invite her to call him out on his wording but…

She saw what he meant well enough.

"Is the other method any easier?"

No," Harry chuckled as he shook his head. He traced his finger across the liquid again. Ginny watched the surface split and she could see through the clear water all the way to the bottom. The water beneath just beneath the surface was transparent. "You must be in control. You must know thyself. When someone enters, they see nothing, you control the currents and colors. All of them."

"If you are completely and totally empty in that moment, there is nothing to grasp and nothing to fight. Any single droplet is indistinguishable from any other. An attacker has no purchase."

"That's impossible." Ginny protested. "People can't keep themselves under that kind of control."

"Not at all times," Harry agreed. "No man is a tower. But that's the basics of Occlumency theory. That's what you are actually trying to accomplish by relaxing or focusing."

"But which should I do?"

"Both," he whispered. "Both and more. That's mastery."

"That'll make it stop?" Ginny had to wonder. Could her nightmares end that easily? "They seem like opposites. How can I possibly relax and focus at the same time?"

Harry shrugged. "How should I know your mechanisms?"

Ginny paused. "Then what should I do?"

"Continue to practice your exercises."

"Continue to-" Ginny sputtered. She shot upright out of her seat. "Continue to practice my exercises and get nowhere! I've been practicing. For _years_. I can't even keep myself under control!" She paced to the wall opposite. Having stood she realized she had nowhere to go. She wrung her hair in frustration. "There's got to be some way to practice more. To practice fast. How can anyone be good at it at this rate?"

"They can't. There are faster ways to practice," Harry admitted. "They are impossible for you, however. Except to the extent that you have already begun."

"Can I get like, a single answer?"

"I-" Harry stuttered off with a laugh. It sounded hollow and self-depreciating. "I feel like I seriously am trying." He took a moment to shake his head and smile before addressing her once more. "You have experience with possession and mind control. You know it better than most. That's experience few people have. Despite that strength you'd shatter like glass." Harry shook his head. "It isn't worth the risk. Trust me."

"You said I was a real witch."

Harry dismissed her. "You are, you must be to have survived. To keep surviving, even. Ginevra you are injured."

"Then what should I do?" She slumped over, her emotions drained before they could burst. She had no choice but to trust him. Getting angry at him for being concerned wasn't going to save her. Her temper was best served when it was directed at something worth being angry at.

"I've tried repressing it," She confessed. "I've tried accepting it too. Just slowly thinking through all of it didn't work either. I have no defense from my nightmares no matter how much I practice."

Harry shook his head. "No one is safe while they sleep. No one. Though the subconscious mind of a talented occlumency isn't exactly a safe place for intruders, it isn't rationally malicious."

"But when will it stop?"

"Never. Occlumency will never defend you from yourself. We all just must live with the pain. No one anywhere gets over something like you went through." Harry met her eyes. "This is permanent, you know that."

She felt goosebumps. She rubbed her left forearm with her right and looked away from his face. She felt childish. "You can't do anything? At all? To help me, I mean."

"Maybe," Harry admitted. "We can certainly start with some Droughts of Dreamlessness. I can brew them, but they can be fairly addictive." He measured her with his eyes for a moment like he was fitting her for a suit. "We can go from there too. I have some ideas, but they need more study."

"What's that mean?"

He scratched his jaw. "I-uh… I haven't figured out a shortcut that could help you. No magic a human can perform can heal this kind of injury but-hmm- that's not entirely true is it…"

"What is it?"

"I might be able to design a blood ritual that could do it." Harry hedged. He was shaking his head thoroughly as he said it. "It isn't a good idea."

"Blood ritual?" Ginny pressed. "Blood magic? That's horrible! Why would you do that? How do you even know about that magic?"

"I said it wasn't a good idea," Harry protested. "This means we need to do things the slow way for you. Come on."

He led her into an adjoining room. The entire room was centered on a dais upon which sat a small silver bowl not unlike the one Harry had just used for his demonstration. This bowl was full of a clear liquid like water but inside there was lights. Long with white patches of cloud like substance which drifted through the water and bounced light down and up to the ceiling across the floor in tight beams.

"This is a pensieve…" He traced his fingers across the bowl. He gazed down at the fluid and the lights below. "This is a device for studying memories. Both mine and others'."

"You want to study my memories?" Ginny wondered. "But you said they're wrong."

"Well of course they are. They were going to be wrong regardless of whether Tom had ever touched you. Human memory is weak. I challenge you to thoroughly comb through what you do and don't remember. A day ago is weak but I think you'll struggle to recall things from beyond five years ago. Examine your memories closer enough and you will find contradictions, but that's true for everybody."

Ginny had to stumble at that. She found that she didn't really want to go looking. The truth was she had often enough laid awake at night thinking and found a few examples of what he was talking about. She didn't like to think of them often, but they were there.

A birthday present she had been sure was hers had belonged to Ron instead. She flew a broom for the first time when she was five not six. She had been certain she had but her parents had informed her otherwise. The look on Bill and Charlie's faces were clear as day but they couldn't have been there. Couldn't have. Her aunt's dog never actually bit her. That had just been a mistake but if it was a dream then it felt as real as any distant memory.

"So, my memories may still have use. Even though they're wrong? What use do you have for manipulated memories?"

"You'll find that the purpose of memory is not to record the past but to give your present self-context." Harry explained. "What you actually recall are little more than delusions regarding the past."

"But everything isn't like that, is it?" Ginny begged.

Harry gave her a look that was simultaneously encouraging and pitying, like he was slowly waiting for her to reach a conclusion that he couldn't share otherwise. "No?"

"What about pain and emotions?"

Harry was already shaking his head. "That's just for context too. We need something more than that. Something above even that if we want the kind of stability you're looking for." Harry reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "What is transcendent about you?"

"I don't know."

"No one else does either." Harry turned back to the bowl. "Let's deal with what we _can_ know."

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

Ollivander's shop was the same in Ginevra's memory as it was in Harry's, at least as far as he could tell from the outside. If Tom had begun to delude her here, Harry couldn't detect that.

Ginevra staggered and bumped into him, for a certain sense of the word. He 'caught' her, but it was only his control of the pensieve which allowed him to casually do so. He had done little more than poked and prodded at her mind. All the danger the light within Luna's dreams held was only poised so to him.

Her knowledge sat like a great beast that if he pushed too far would lash out and devour him. He was not meant to see what she saw. He was not meant to know all the things she knew. Harry personally held the opinion that if there was some agency here, Luna was not meant to know either.

Ginevra, however, seemed stable but it was not lasting. A strong blow to any number of places and she'd fall to pieces.

Harry had to be careful for her sake when he entered her mind and so far he'd done nothing but look.

"Are you alright."

"Yes, it was just so sudden." She caught herself and glanced around. "It doesn't seem quite right. Does it ever, or is that just me?"

"It never does because it is you." Harry returned. "Unhelpful, I know, but it never does because it's me either."

"What?"

"I don't-" Harry struggled for a moment to try and explain how each person's modalities were unique but… "Memories are just like this, there's always something lost in translation."

"The translation is bad, the information itself is unreliable, and this one in particular could have been manipulated by Tom." Ginevra looked up at him. "You don't seem to be selling this very high."

"Don't forget that the act of recollection changes your memories. But despite all that, it's a lead." Harry gazed at the shop. "There you are."

Smaller, eleven-year old Ginny and a pudgy Molly Weasley swung into the shop. Ginevra stopped next to him eyeing her younger self. Ginny was nearly quivering with the excitement of getting her wand and she couldn't hide it. She was trying though.

Ginevra fidgeted next to Harry and he strode forward, he passed into the room straight through the wall like a ghost. He eyed Olivander.

"-Of course, I remember your husband's too yes it was Holly and Dragon heartstring. Nearly thirteen inches -why-"

Harry peered around the shop, taking a closer look at the wands. Ginevra stepped through the wall into the shop behind him.

"It's you, no?" Harry asked. He kept Ollivander tuned out. Ginevra jumped first at his words, then Ginevra, Ginny, and Molly all gave a start in near unison as the wand Ginny had been waving launched itself through Harry's head and into the wall.

Harry paid it no mind. Honestly that was fairly tame as far as bad reaction for wands go. Further still Harry had taken notes standing just meters from Grindelwald in the heart of the Duel. He'd long since learned to trust the pensieve

"What?" Ginevra asked at length. A wary glance in the direction of her past self.

"You."

Ginevra blinked at him.

"Your wand. Its yew."

"Oh, uh yeah., It is." Ginevra explained. "It's yew and unicorn. Why?"

"I was just curious. Things seem in order, don't they? Is anything unsettling?"

"I mean…" She glanced at him, her surroundings, then at Ollivander in particular, then back at him. "Yes."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anything contradictory?"

She glanced around and shrugged. "This all feels like I remember it. Ollivander was creepy, my Mom acted like it was normal, I was expected to accept it." Ginny stepped back out of the wall to take a look at the shop. Harry joined her. "Is this how the shop looked in Tom's time?"

"I haven't gone looking for old photos of the place. There are probably some we could use. This is how I remember it, though, and I should be arriving any second."

Harry and Ginevra followed her past self and her mother out of the shop and up Diagon Alley. Flourish and Blotts.

The world seemed to bubble slightly. Harry closed his eyes and mind, waiting for the vertigo to pass as the pensieve tried to combine their memories.

"This," Harry gestured to the first memory once Ginevra was standing again and ready to listen. "Is my perspective. This is yours."

Ginevra continued to blink and shake her head. "I can hardly see what's happening."

"Relax, try to see from both of our perspectives, it's not so hard." Harry absently paused the memory in time.

"Harry?" Ginevra turned and looked around. Harry frowned. He was standing just before her or was appearing to at least, within both timelines.

"Give yourself a moment to adjust." He stretched out his mental fingers before swiftly retracting them. If he touched her mind and revealed himself, he may not be able to put her together again and wipe her memory of his power, he would need to commit. She would likely detect him and that was assuming he didn't accidentally crush her as he grabbed her.

She shook her head frantically and Harry acted immediately. He removed his memory from their shared perspective. He watched Ginevra fall again but it wasn't like she was hitting anything solid. She lay there rubbing her eyes.

"I just can't focus."

"You must clear your mind," Harry insisted. "Breathe."

She wasn't. He frowned. She wasn't going to die. Probably. If she had a psychosomatic reaction to a perceived lack of air, he would be able to resuscitate her. If she had a stronger reaction, Madam Pomphrey would resuscitate her. He wasn't sure she was processing her lack of air, so it seemed unlikely. It seemed like she was struggling to process anything.

She was just hyperventilating.

 _How the fuck does one treat mental illness without legilimency?_

Harry extended a finger into her forehead. He reached around her, and he could feel her react to his presence. He furrowed his eyes in concentration. Lingering just beyond her thoughts. She inhaled deeply then exhaled. He wanted to reach out directly into her mind and stabilize her, he could do so with Luna at little risk to her but with Ginevra…

"You're in my thoughts."

"I'm just at the edge of your mind, I'm not inside. Feel me."

She shuddered and took another deep breath. "I can feel you," she murmured. "I can feel you." She shut her eyes tight. "Let's try again." When Harry said nothing, she peeked one eye open. "You said I'd probably fail the first time."

Harry gave a slow nod. He pulled his hand from her skin and prepared to add his memory to their awareness again. The control he had over the pensieve was not overt, instead it was a function of his will and that of others. Technically speaking she could try to contest him and divert herself else-memory in the pensieve but she could not possibly overcome his control, really.

Even still the pensieve served as a barrier between their thoughts. The magical device was designed to grant all kinds of protection to the user from malicious or ill-recollected memories. They were useful for examining emotionally hazardous events for this very reason. This space limited his powers over the minds of others in the same way, but it granted him new ones over the space within it and the barrier served to keep Ginevra's mind safe from her trauma, Tom, and himself.

She didn't fall this time, but it was a close thing, falling didn't truly make sense in this place either, not unless one wanted to, or they believed they had to.

"Everything is still double," she complained. "The people, the light, everything."

Harry agreed. "We don't remember everything the same, so it isn't double. They're just close. That doesn't go away, though, you need to get used to processing it."

Harry lifted his memory from her awareness. She let out a sigh of relief, he waited for her to catch her breath and once again he lowered it onto her.

Time was subjective here in many ways, but they did not have forever. Even if they spent subjective hours doing it here the mental exhaustion could kill her once they came back to.

Ginevra wearily blinked around taking in his presence through squinted eyes. She wasn't really using her eyes but that wasn't important now. What was important was that they could press forward.

"I'm ready. Which direction are you coming from?" Ginevra wondered for a moment. She blinked, her eyes growing wide and far away. "You came from Gringotts. You're coming from the opposite direction. How? How did I do that?"

Harry said nothing and time began to play forward. He paced after Ginny and Molly and Ginevra sped up to keep pace with him.

"Dean and Seamus came by that morning to join Ron for shopping. Then we met here after I got my wand for all of our books," Ginevra continued. "Gilderoy's inside but -oh, there you are, or were. Which is it?"

Harry stared at his younger self. He shook his head. "Ugh."

"What?" She paced up to him. "What is it?"

He looked away from his twelve-year old self and towards the shop, bustling with people. "It's nothing." He tried to gaze through the throng and windows for all of half a moment before the walls of the building fell away, of all the buildings fell away, places one had never been were absent in that perspective but just as physical in the other.

He watched the scene play out from the street, from what they both could see.

The people fell away next. All of them but young Ginny, Draco and Lucius. Harry played it again. Books scattered across the street.

Harry watched objects move through the air with no people to carry them. Ginevra winced beside him as Lucius was rocked back by an invisible punch.

Harry froze the memory after the Cauldron slid towards him, following himself up to it and gazing inside.

There it was. Ginevra paced up to him and looked inside too, she looked in, then back up at him, curiously. "It's here."

She shook her head, "it's empty, totally empty."

Harry lifted his perspective and gazed inside. It was empty, dark iron. He reached inside and felt the cold metal. "How did you know it was empty?"

"Huh?"

"How did you know it was empty?"

"I just looked inside of it, just now."

"What's that book over there on the ground." He pointed at the closest one.

She walked over and crouched next to it. "Uh its intro-to-transfig. McGonagall uses the same ones for every year. At least since Bill…" she hesitated. "My family definitely already had a copy of this one, and I think I remember using Ron's all year." She gave an immense sigh. "This is fake."

Harry shook his head. "Why go that far?" He pointed to where Ginny stood then back at where Ginevra and the book sat. "You couldn't have seen which book it was. You couldn't see the cauldron from your perspective or anything inside. You couldn't have known it looked like this. Focus, what could you have known, and what could you have not? Watch."

He played the memory forward and watched himself gather her books, put them in the cauldron, and hand it to Ginny.

Ginevra watched the memory play out, her eyebrows furrowed together. She blinked up at him. "What about your memory?"

Harry nodded and flicked them over to his version. People moved and objects moved slightly, changed shades subtly or were a little back or forwards in time but it was still relatively the same.

The books in the street disappeared. This time when Harry played it forward, he didn't stop in the street and gather her books.

"You won't have my memories to help you out the rest of the time. If you want to find out what happened to you during your first year, you need to exercise this."

She nodded along. Staring at the memory where he had stopped it, mid-motion handing it to her.

Harry took that as his queue. He reversed time and space again all the way back to when Ginny put her brand-new wand in her Cauldron. They gazed inside together.

No diary.

"It was the Malfoy's, then."

"No," Harry disagreed. "They were just being themselves."

He sighed and began to rub his eyes. He didn't stop until Ginevra reached out to him.

"You couldn't have known." Ginevra insisted. "The Malfoys."

"I actually could have known."

"They did this to me."

Harry looked at her. He didn't need to be a mind reader to spot murderous intent.

"Stop it," Harry snapped. "You're being ridiculous. Me, and Tom, and Dumbledore did this to you." Harry pulled them from the memory. Ginevra wobbled slightly but Harry reached out physically and caught her this time.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "But the Malfoys-"

"The Malfoys," Harry began pointedly, "Spent years next to that thing if never in direct contact and Lucius let Voldemort bind him long before you were born. They had almost nothing to do with it."

"He tried to… do you have any idea what Tom did to me?" She hissed.

Harry met her challenge, "I do."

She snarled and the nearest windows shattered in a dozen places, "Malfoy needs to pay." Harry didn't spare them so much as a glance. He could fix them in a heartbeat.

"Let me take care of Malfoy."

She twitched visibly in the direction of her wand. "I just found out who was responsible for ruining my life and you want me to do nothing?"

"Yes. You will do nothing." Harry affirmed.

She really did pull her wand at that. Her anger made the tip glow where she pointed it at the ground, her hands coming to her sides where her fingers clenched tight around her wand.

"You just spent an hour learning how little you know and can know. Clear your thoughts." Harry looked pointedly down at her wand. "And stop being ridiculous."

"I'm going to kill him." She insisted. "Both of them."

"And you may be right to do so, but trying now will only get you and other people killed. I would have to stop you."

She shoved her wand angrily back into her robes. "Fine, I'll leave Malfoy alone."

Harry nodded along. It would have been complicated if he hadn't convinced her to bow to his wisdom. The last thing he needed was a murder in Hogwarts or any of his secrets coming to light.

She stepped into his face, her cheeks to flush with anger, "but I'm not going to do nothing."

 **pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq**

 **-WG**


End file.
